


Eternally Awake

by lilkorea_189



Series: Eternally [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Drama & Romance, F/M, Family Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2020-03-02 21:40:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 145,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18819544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilkorea_189/pseuds/lilkorea_189
Summary: Rumor has traveled across Middle Earth of a mysterious healer who has cured thousands, and when the King of Stone and Wood's only son falls gravely ill does the prideful elf turn for this stranger's help. Though in a turn of events, not only does this healer heal the young prince she unintentionally heals Thranduil's heart.This story is complete 12/30/19





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on fanfiction and I've decided to share it here on Archive. This story has been revised and re-edited. Hope you readers enjoy!

The people of Lake Town were all flabbergasted by the sight of a troupe of elves in armor standing in a boat at the very edge of their shabby homes. What was more was that three had come aboard onto the boardwalk, demanding for the town’s doctor. In recent months an epidemic had swept over the land, the children more vulnerable than the adults and after twelve children died a mysterious skilled healer had come, curing the children in days. Word about the mysterious healer had traveled and when the Elvenking’s own offspring had fallen ill, he commanded the captain of his army to send out a small squadron to bring the healer to him in Mirkwood.

“By order of King Thranduil, if the healer does not come forth within the hour, we shall set this town ablaze.”

Many of the people gasped and whispered, exchanging knowing looks as some whispered to warn the healer. 

“For the love of—this is ridiculous.” came a woman’s voice as a woman with dark brown hair tied up in a bun and dressed in worn-out rags of clothing. A large and strange looking bag hung from her shoulder.

“No, please, this village will fall into disease again if you leave us.” said a woman, holding onto the healer’s arm with her weathered hands. 

She looked back at the older woman and then at all the sad faces of the townspeople. “Your children are all healthy again and I have taught you how to keep them that way. Take what I’ve taught you and continue to improve.” she said, pulling her arm from the older woman’s grip, smiling gently at her. “My services are needed elsewhere now.” 

She turned and bravely took steps towards the elves. She had heard many fantastical tales from the villagers about the elves of Mirkwood, mostly about their cruelty and greed. In truth, she believed most of it but also took their tales with a grain of salt. She had met elves before, and had come across some who were mistrustful of humans, but the majority of their kind had been hospitable and more often curious…about her.

“Are you the healer of this town?” the elf asked, doubting the strange looking woman before him.

“Well I did spend a good portion of my life in medical school and put myself in a great deal of debt in student loans—so yeah, I’d like to think of myself as a healer.” she said, “So are you gonna let me onto your boat or are you gonna be rude and make me swim there?”

The elven warrior was taken aback by the woman’s boldness. “This way.” the elf said, turning to allow the woman onto the boat.

The woman swung her bag up into the other elf, “Don’t be so rude and carry that.” 

Getting on the boat she noticed right away of the stares she was getting from the elven soldiers, the curiosity and intrigue she had grown accustomed to in her time in Middle Earth. She would think she’d be used to it by now. In minutes they were sailing off across the lake and she couldn’t help but look back at Lake Town and the many sad faces she was leaving behind. It pained her to see such disappointment, considering that words did not have to be said that she would never return. She was never good with goodbyes, which is why she preferred to not form attachments. 

But it was hard.

“Lady Healer,” she looked back at the elf of whom she assumed was the leader of this small squadron. He was a handsome elf, of course all of his kind were super model gorgeous that it made her bitterly jealous and also horny to the point where she couldn’t help but fantasize being in the middle of an orgy with all these masculine beauties. She pinched her rib to focus herself. “You will be in the presence of King Thranduil. He does not tolerate humans and under normal circumstances he would not turn to one for help but his kingdom has come under a dark cloud as his people are in need of an unconventional solution.” 

She forced a friendly smile onto her face. “Luckily for you I am quite unconventional.” she said though with little humor. She looked back again just before the view of the town vanished behind the trees and brush of the forest.

xxxxx

“Wow…this place makes Buckingham Palace look cheap.” she said, taking in the sight of the Elvin Kingdom in the woods.

“You are the talented healer of Lake Town?” came a rich, velvety voice, catching the woman’s attention as she turned around to see the most beautiful man she’s ever laid eyes upon (or was he just a very masculine woman?). Nevermind the orgy fantasy with the elven soldiers on the boat, her body immediately craved the sex god in front of her. “A woman, no less.”

Two seconds and she already hated and desired him. It was safe to say by the crown on his head and the clothing he wore that the man in front of her was King Thranduil.

“Forgive me if my gender offends you.” she replied sarcastically, proud of herself to keep her voice cool and her knees straight.

“Your impudence shall not go unnoticed in my kingdom, so you will bite your tongue in my presence.” he said, standing up and going to the woman, stopping just two long strides from her. Fuck! How tall was he? She had to tilt her head back quite a bit just to look up at his oh so beautiful face. He carefully circled her, looking at her from all angles, analyzing every detail. Her attire were mere peasant rags, and she looked too healthy under the grime and filth for an average human, not to mention she did not smell foul like horse dung and rotting fish as the humans from Lake Town do. He stopped in front of her, his icy blue eyes staring into her brown ones.

Thranduil looked to one of his servants before turning away to return to his throne as the servant came forward to direct the healer away.

“This way, Lady Healer.” said the servant, their voice low as they led the way.

Being lead away through the grandest of structures the woman had ever been to, she couldn’t help but let her jaw go slack in astonishment. Before she knew it, she had been led into an echoing room of marble stone so glistening that she could practically see her grungy reflection in the floor and walls. The sound of water being poured caught her attention as she looked ahead of her to see that a bath had been drawn for her (or at least she hoped it was for her. Lord knew she was in desperate need of a good scrub).

“I am certain that you are weary and wish to bathe before seeing the prince.” said the elven servant. 

“A bath is definitely what I need.” the woman said, already beginning to remove her ratty clothing. The elven servant averted her eyes as the human woman stripped naked and climbed into the bath with no shame whatsoever. As she sat in the steamy water she couldn’t resist but groan in pure pleasure and allowed her body to relax as she submerged completely under the water.

Resurfacing after a minute the woman felt like she was in heaven, forgetting briefly where she was before a hand came over her and woke her from her daydream. The elven servant had taken a rag and began to run it over the healer’s shoulders, scrubbing gently at the grime.

“I can bathe myself.” the woman said, reaching for the rag.

“As King Thranduil’s guest, it is my duty to see to your every need.” the servant said.

“What’s your name?” 

The elf hesitated a moment, having never been asked of her name in a long time. “Ester.” she replied almost shyly.

The healer looked up at Ester and smiled. “I’m Ayla.”

After being washed cleaned, Ayla was given a new set of clothes to wear. Ayla was glad to be rid of the rags she had no choice to wear for the past year. The new clothes were light and had an indescribable feel to them, like silken fluid. Her hair had been combed out by Ester, her hair dried surprisingly fast with the towels, as if they drew the water out like a magnet. Ester then set to putting Ayla’s hair in a simple braid that was of the fashion of the elves.

“Lady Ayla, I will show you to the young prince.” Ester said.

“Tell me about the prince, what is his condition?” Ayla asked, already switching into her professional mode.

“The young prince has become gravely ill after breaking his arm from a fall.” explained Ester as she led Ayla down the hall. “Soon after, he developed a fever and has been unable to eat or drink for three days now. Our most skilled healers have done all they can to no avail, which is why in desperation the King has turned to you, Lady Healer. He, like many, has heard of your renown for healing the most impossible illnesses.”

“Me? But all I’ve done was help people change their lifestyle to stay clean and healthy. Nothing special about that.” she said.

“But Lake Town is not the only place you have visited. Stories of a mysterious healer have traveled far and wide across Middle Earth.” They stopped outside a door where five elves stood, seeming to be waiting. “Lady Healer, they are healers who have been unable to heal our prince and have graciously documented all they have done for the prince so that you would not waste your time repeating failed treatments.”

One elf with long black hair and earthy green eyes handed her a bound tome of about fifty pages. Curious, she opened to the first page and was rather put off by the writing. “Thank you, this would be helpful if I knew how to read your language.”

“We had our reservations about such an event,” spoke the second healer, a female elf with golden hair and purple eyes. “Which is why I volunteered to help you translate.”

“Please, there will be time for pleasantries once the prince is in better condition.” said the first elf, his voice carrying a hint of annoyance.

Entering the room with the female elf, Ayla first noticed how dim the room was. Second was how stagnant the air smelled and felt. Third, she noticed the bed up against the wall where a small, frail child lay.

“Lady Healer, this is Prince Legolas.” the female elf said.

Going to the young prince’s bedside, she set her bag down, unzipping the top and pulled out her stethoscope and placing the earpieces in her ears before setting the diaphragm on his chest, listening to his breathing and heartbeat. Ayla placed two fingers on the boy’s wrist, feeling the fluttering of his pulse under her fingertips. The female elf stood at the foot of the bed, observing the human woman and the strange devices she used. Her keen eyes observing the human woman’s techniques and how she went about analyzing the young prince’s body so carefully. 

Taking the earpieces out and then hanging the stethoscope around her neck, Ayla stood up and went to the windows, pulling the curtains back and opening all the windows, allowing a cool breeze into the room.

“What are you doing?” the female elf asked, curious.

“This room needs air. I’m guessing since he’s been bed ridden that none of these windows have been opened. He needs fresh air circulating into the room, breathing in the same stale air is doing more harm than good.” she said, her tone clinical. “When was the last time he was bathed and dressed in fresh clothes?”

“Not since after he broke his arm.” 

“Then get me some hot water and rags and fresh clothes for him.”

Once hot water and rags were fetched, the female elf helped Ayla bathe the young prince and dress him in fresh clothes.

“You’re very peculiar for a human. Why do all of these things without trying to heal him first of his sickness?” 

Ayla looked at the elvin woman while unraveling the bandage on the prince’s arm gently. “In my experience people tend to feel better if they’re clean, dry, and comfortable. You have to cure your outside before your inside. That’s what my mentor had taught me.”

“Lady Healer—”

“—Ayla. My name is Ayla. What’s yours?”

The elf was nonplussed by Ayla’s forwardness and plain-speak. “Kwenthrith.” 

“It feels like the bones weren’t set properly.” Ayla said, able to see the bump of the bone through the swelling and bruising on the arm.

“And what does that mean for the Prince?” Kwenthrith asked.

“It means I’m gonna have to re-break his arm and set it properly.”

Stricken, Kwenthrith immediately looked to the closed door and back at Ayla. “Are you mad?”

“Look, I’ve seen this a lot. If you don’t set the bone right it’ll cause a lot of damage, especially in children. The very fact that he’s feverish is because of this arm not healing properly. A greenstick fracture is the least of our problems. Get me two splints and bandages.”

Kwenthrith hesitated a moment before she left to get what was needed and in a few short minutes she returned, but she was not alone. The other healers had also come in once they had been told what Ayla was going to do. Ayla wasn’t surprised that Kwenthrith had told the others of her plan. She was a stranger, someone they did not trust, and they were only looking out for the safety of their sick prince on behalf of their king.

“I must object to your barbaric method. Your job is to heal the prince, not cause him more pain.” said one.

“Sometimes you gotta break a bone or two to get the results you want.” Ayla said.

“The King will not stand for this!” said the second.

Ayla stood up and faced the other healers. “Go ahead, tell your King that I’m going to do what needs to be done. At least I’m doing something.”

“On what grounds must you re-break his arm? What evidence is there that his arm is the cause?” asked the first again.

“C’mere and feel for yourself.” Ayla said, waving for him to step forward. When he did she guided his fingers, pressing them into the prince’s bruised arm. The young prince groaned in his unconscious state while the elven healer felt the obvious notch. “If I don’t reset it, not only will his arm be deformed he might actually die. Help me heal this child.”

The elf looked at her and then at the young prince before nodding his head in agreement.

“Please step back,” she said. The other healers all stood aside, watching with academic fascination as Ayla grabbed the injured arm, situating it against her body. She firmly grasped his wrist with one hand and the base of his elbow with the other. She paused to gather her concentration before bracing her weight, twisting her upper body with the movement as she pulled with her arms in opposite directions. She heard the sound of the bones crack back into place within the scream of the young prince who wailed in agony.

“Help me wrap his arm. Grab the splints and the wraps.” Ayla said. “It’s all right, kid. The worst part is over.”

The elven healers in the room each took up a task to assist, Kwenthrith took it upon herself to hold the splints against the young prince’s arm while the other healer wrapped it in place and a third recorded it in the tome.

“If your method does not work, then what?” Kwenthrith asked.

“It really depends on him now. All we can do is sit and wait and monitor his condition.” Ayla said.

“The King will surely not see it that way should the prince’s health turn for the worst after what you have done.” said the cynical elf, looking at Ayla with the same distrust she had seen many times before. Frustrated, Ayla crossed her arms and jutted one hip out in a saucy, defiant pose.

“Fuck you.” she said, startling the three elves with her harsh language. “You motherfuckers are the ones who wanted my help and you people have the nerve to treat me like some uneducated moron. Just so you know, from what I’ve seen, your weak-ass natropath hippy medicine didn’t work because you all ignored an obvious injury. If anyone is to blame; it’s all three of you.”

xxxxx

Ayla watched as the barred door was locked, trapping her in a prison cell. As soon as King Thranduil had heard that she had re-broke his son’s arm he immediately ordered her arrest. With a sigh, Ayla sat down on the ground since there was no chair or bench.

“Fuck me...” she muttered, unable to stop the memories of her past from flooding back.

xxxxx

(Past)

The sound of rusted hinged creaked, the noise loud of the damp dungeon. Heavy, armored boots stomped down the flagstones, stopping outside Ayla’s cell. Looking up when the jingle of keys reached her ears, she watched warily as the wooden door swung open and a man entered. She could just make out the outline of a sword strapped to his hip right before his figure eclipsed her, grabbing her roughly to stand her up. She was then forced to walk forward out of the cell where she was met with a roguish looking man. From a quick glance Ayla took notice that his armor was different. It was polished and well cared for with an etching of a tree on the chest piece. Looking up at his face her eyes caught the sight of a crown on his head.

“You’re either a king or you just think very highly of yourself.” Ayla said before she could stop herself. Luckily for her, the man seemed to have a sense of humor as he chuckled. With a wave of his hand the guard released his hold on Ayla.

“Forgive the treatment you were shown, my Lady.” he said, his voice gentle and smooth like warmed oil. “My men are tired from many years of fighting the dark forces of Mordor. So please understand their caution when they happened upon you in the field tending to all of the wounded, enemy and ally alike.”

Ah. That’s right. This is all but a misunderstanding. Fucking bastards. “As a doctor it’s not my place to choose who to help.” she said, keeping her voice even.

“You’re a curious woman. May I ask where you are from?”

“Only if you will tell me where I am.”

“Fair enough; you are in Gondor.”

“Damn, I was hoping you were gonna say Hogwarts.”

“Pardon?”

“Forget about it.”

xxxxx

(Present)

Three days had gone by, though Ayla could only guess as her only way of keeping track of time was when a guard would come and bring her stale bread and a cup of water.

“Ayla,” Kwenthrith whispered, crouching down to speak through the bars. “Prince Legolas has awoken and his fever is gone. You were right about his arm.”

“Great, now tell your King to let me out.” Ayla said. “I’d like to leave.” Kwenthrith stood and hurried away. 

Ayla sighed, wishing she could simply wake up from this incredibly long and very detailed larp dream.

xxxxx

Ayla was awoken to the sound of keys jingling and then the screech of the iron door swinging open to her cell. She lifted her head to see who it was, not at all surprised to see two elvin soldiers. They both entered the cell and each grabbed her arm and hauled her roughly to her feet, her wrists bound in metal cuffs that bit into her wrists painfully. She had been through a similar scenario before and wondered if the outcome would be the same or perhaps different. All she knew was that she was going to find out soon as she was brought into the throne room and forced onto her knees before the king. Ayla saw from the corner of her eyes the elvin healers who were standing off to the side in silence.

“You dared to harm my son in his vulnerable state when I had called upon your service to do the opposite.” said Thranduil, “Your barbaric methods both appall and insult me, human. How can you call yourself a healer when you purposely cause pain?”

“Is he better?” she asked, daring to look up at him and purposely ignoring his question. She took in his posture, sitting up straight in his throne, his beautiful face a mask of calm though she could see in his icy eyes the raging anger locked within. Then she dared to continue, pressing her luck. “You had a staff of healers, all of whom couldn’t seem to figure out that all your son’s problems stemmed from his broken arm of which had been ignored.”

“You dare—” one of the healers started but stopped short after one sharp look from his king.

“Yeah, I dare.” Ayla said, now growing bolder as she moved to stand but the guard at her back pushed firmly down on her shoulder, keeping her from rising. “I dared to think outside the box and fix the problem by resetting his arm. So I ask again; is he better?” This time Ayla turned her head to look at the healers, feeling their shame and embarrassment rather than see it (and she so wished she could see it past their practiced masks).

“You will continue to care for my son.” Thranduil said curtly before waving his hand to dismiss her. 

“Wait, what?” Ayla wasn’t sure she heard right as she was picked up and lead away down a different hallway and into a small room with a single bed and water basin. “What? No pillow mint?” she asked sarcastically, turning to the guards who merely shut the door and locked her inside.

xxxxx

For a week Ayla would tend to the young prince, nursing him back to health. The youth proved to be a fast healer as he would stubbornly insist on getting out of bed, as all children did. Ayla found the young prince to be quite endearing, growing on her quickly and it didn’t take long for her to discover that he had always been treated like a prince, not a child. It also became apparent to her that she was to Legolas’ personal nanny. 

So, thinking she was held captive for an indefinite amount of time and since she also had nothing better to do, she would let the child be a child. She watched while Legolas would run about, his arm still in a sling and healing, though it didn’t seem to slow the boy down. He was still fearless as he balanced along the edges of the walls and bridges.

“I see our Prince has made quite the recovery.” Kwenthrith said as she walked beside Ayla. The elf maiden had been the only one to apologize to Ayla, and had become Ayla’s only companion of sorts.

“Yeah, and thanks to your King I’m now reduced to a glorified nanny.” Ayla said almost bitterly. She grew accustomed to moving around, not staying in one place for too long, it had become almost second nature for her to do so ever since she came to Middle Earth who knows how long ago.

“May I ask where you have learned such healing methods?” Kwenthrith asked.

Ayla couldn’t help but think of her previous life and how much she missed her friends and family (and Netflix and coffee and Tylenol). “I used to be a doctor, having gone through medical school and learning from the best. I had the best technology and facilities and I never truly appreciated what I had until coming to Middle Earth. Being here has shown me what I’ve truly taken for granted.”

“Before coming to Middle Earth? Are you perhaps from the Valor?”

Ayla had heard of the Valor from listening to bards sing about it in pubs and from what little the elves she had met in her travels were willing to share. “No, I’m just another unfortunate human.” she said, not mentioning that she is a human with a rather unnaturally long life. She had lost count how many years have gone by, wandering from place to place. 

Kwenthrith sensed Ayla was withholding information about herself and could also sense that prying would only make the situation uncomfortable for Ayla. She would have to give their new relationship time to form trust.

“Ayla! Come play with me!” Legolas called, waving with his good arm from where he stood on a thick tree branch.

“Prince Legolas has grown fond of you, Lady Ayla.” Kwenthrith said, “It has been so long since anyone has seen him so alive and happy. You truly are a great healer.”

Ayla shrugged her shoulders. “What can I say, kids love me.” she said dryly before walking ahead of Kwenthrith towards Legolas who was grinning at her brightly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More is revealed of Ayla's past while Ayla copes with the thought that returning home may not be feasible.

Despite the early hours of the morning, the streets of Seattle were fully awake, no doubt fueled by their morning coffee from the numerous coffee houses that nestled in every block of every street corner. It was a bitter cold morning, wet from the pre-dawn drizzle of rain, a typical climate for late November. All the more reason for the Seattleites to clutch at their paper cups tighter for warmth.

Ayla was no different, clutching her cup of Seattle’s Best while dragging her tired feet through the sliding doors of the hospital she worked at. It was her second year out of medical school and she had decided during her residency to become a surgeon, mainly to avoid speaking to patients and dealing with the bullshit of pretending to care and explaining to patient’s loved ones why this test needs to be done and why the patient hasn’t gotten better after one treatment. (She hated people who sought out the one-and-done non-existent treatments. Fucking idiots.)

True, she still dealt with patients but at least they were unconscious when they came through her doors. The only thing she had to deal with were the families and their endless annoying questions before and after the surgeries. “Will me husband be in pain?” or “What am I going to do if they don’t survive?” and so on and so forth. The hardest were when her patients do die on the table and she had to go out and inform the family of the grave news.

It should probably disturb Ayla how all of her sympathy had simply drained out of her by the time she graduated. Now whenever it came to giving bad news, she had to learn how to act sympathetic (maybe it was a sign that she was turning into a sociopath).

She walked into the locker room and went to her assigned locker and began removing her coat. She pulled her phone out of the coat pocket and unlocked the screen, staring blankly down at the bottom right corner of her phone at the little red bubble over the message app. She had ten missed calls.

With a sigh she pressed the button on her phone to listen to the missed messages, knowing she was going to regret it.

_“Ayla, it’s your mother, why don’t you ever answer when I—”_ Ayla immediately deleted the message and moved on to the next, only to delete the next as well, along with the next four. Her mother was so persistent and it was annoying. Isn’t it enough that she was spending the holidays this year with her and her husband and annoying half-siblings? 

“I need to change my number.” Ayla muttered as she tied her dark hair up into a tight bun and proceeded towards the surgeons’ board to check what surgeries she will be doing. She had long since stopped visiting her patients before the procedures, letting the surgical interns do all the talking. Ayla had no patience answering every single mundane question with obvious answers. She didn’t bother to look at the board of names of interns who would be assisting her; chances were that once they had finished their first year as interns they would transfer out to other hospitals. Besides, interns were only good for two things: delegations and a good fuck in the janitors’ closet.

She scrubbed herself clean from fingertips to her elbows, holding her hands up at shoulder level, pausing to stare at her reflection in the mirror. She noticed the dark bags under eyes immediately and the beginnings of stress-induced white hairs peeking out from her roots. Her brown eyes were dull—defeated from experiences of disappointment and not even thirty yet.

“Another simple procedure. All you’re doing is taking out a foot of a man’s cancer ridden colon this morning. This isn’t a heart transplant. Easy-peezy.” she said to her reflection before turning away to enter the O.R.

Ayla was gowned, capped, masked, and gloved by her nursing staff, sterilized for the operation. She approached the operating table where her patient laid, unconscious from the anesthesia with a sterile fenestrated drape over his lower abdomen. The sound of oldies rock music playing on the iPod stereo to keep up everyone’s spirits as it was going to be a long procedure.

“All right, let’s get started.” Ayla said, holding her hand out to the side, “Scalpel.”

xxxxx 

Six hours later, Ayla came out of the operating room, taking off her protective gear and tossing them into the biohazard bin. Another successful operation. Now she just had to go and tell the family that the patient will make a full recovery and then go to lunch. What was she in the mood for? Maybe a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup, hopefully the cafeteria was serving that today.

xxxxx 

(Present)

Three months have gone by and Ayla felt herself beginning to settle in the woodland realm. Her heart already stolen by the young prince, Legolas, who clung to her, spoiled by her attention. Everyday, from morning till night, she would be by the side of the young prince while always being under the watchful eye of the King’s guards. She knew, that so long as Legolas insisted, his father, the King, would keep her locked up in the gilded cage called Mirkwood.

Her former life seemed like a dream and Middle Earth was her reality.

Ayla pulled the blanket around her shoulders tighter as she sat out on the veranda in the back of the fortress, staring out at the dense woods. It was still and quiet, the air cool as early signs of winter was approaching. Recently she was allowed to leave her room as she pleased so long as she never set foot outside of the gates. Gilded cage indeed. She closed her eyes, taking in the silence, trying to clear her mind of her troublesome past. Trying to lighten her heart of its many burdens and regrets. Trying not to mourn the loss of her home and tried to find comfort in this world.

How many winters has it been now?

“I have been told that you have been coming out here as of late, as if you are troubled by something.” came the familiar velvety voice of the one elf she had grown to truly resent. Pretty face be damned. 

“Are you here to tell me yourself that I am no longer to sit here because I’m a lowly human?” she asked, not turning around to face him. This was not her first tango of wills with the arrogant King, nor would it be her last so long as she stays within the same walls. She knew he disliked her, and he had no trouble showing her that and then she would retaliate by acting stubborn and hard-headed like him (of course if he truly knew her she was always that way).

It was a vicious tug-o-war between them with no winner in sight.

“Legolas is quite fond of you, he speaks nothing but high praises about you.” Thranduil said, his quiet steps bringing him closer to Ayla. “The mystery of your origin still surrounds your being causing intrigue among my people. The rumors about your travels and deeds span back decades, longer than a normal human life. You have denied being of the Valor, perhaps you are of the Dunedaine?”

“No,” she sighed, standing up and finally turning to him, her cheeks and nose pink from the cold as she pulled the blanket up around her shoulders to her ears. “I actually don’t know who or what I am anymore. I’ve lost hope a long time ago of ever going back to where I come from because I’m starting to think it never existed.”

Thranduil saw the look of defeat in the always defiant eyes of the healer, seeing the vulnerability show through for just a moment before it vanished beneath the icy exterior she had put up. He had once understood the feeling of dread of never coming home, not since the last war so many centuries ago.

“Perhaps it is time for you to forget the past.” Thranduil said.

“And how do you propose I go about doing that?”

“As a favor for saving my son, you may call the Woodland Realm, your home.”

Thranduil saw the hesitation in Ayla, knowing that she cared for his son but he had also witnessed the longing to leave. The past month Thranduil had heard of nothing but talk of Ayla, the mysterious healer among his kin, about how she was teaching his elvin healers her methods and how none of it relied on magic but trained skill. She had healed so many and yet all the tales and rumors never mentioned her name or that she took payment of any kind. A frail, weak looking human woman, who has lived an impossibly long life, who has wandered alone searching for an answer to questions unasked. Thranduil knew her pain, or at the very least, understood to a degree.

“Mull it over,” Thranduil said as he turned to leave. “We will break bread together tonight.” Ayla remained where she stood, feeling the cold entering her body. Did she have a future in the Woodland Realm? Did she even want to stay?

_Have I given up trying to find my way home to Seattle? Dorothy Gale, I need your ruby slippers._

xxxxx 

(Past)

“Soryn!” called one of her colleagues, making Ayla stop and turn around to see Dr. Pamela Hana, the Resident Director of the hospital. She was a glamorous looking woman, always dressed in the finest labels under her lab coat, but she had a nasty personality which is why Ayla got along with her. “Going out for lunch?”

“Yeah, I was gonna get something down at Pike’s.” Ayla said.

Pamela clicked her tongue in disapproval. “You’re paid a doctor’s salary, you should spend your blood money on better things than day-old clam chowder.” she chided as she linked her arm with Ayla’s and led the way out through the double glass doors. 

“Pam, I just wanna eat a cheap, over-priced, greasy burger.” Ayla complained as Pam dragged her to the curb where a waiting Uber car sat idle. Pam opened the door and shoved Ayla in before getting in herself.

“You’ll get your greasy burger, but from a place with better quality.” Pamela said.

“I’d be happier with questionable meat between a sesame bun and extra pickles and if they ask if I want to supersize it I will.”

“Ugh, you truly are a garbage disposal.” 

Ayla grinned, always relishing in the small victory of disgusting her high-maintenance friend. The two of them had found each other in medical school, and immediately formed a bond and had been friends ever since. It was safe to say that Pamela was Ayla’s spirit animal, always guiding her to trouble.

xxxxx 

(Present)

Sitting at dinner Ayla did her best to pretend that she wasn’t bored of yet another meal of leafy greens and yeast-free bread. At least there was wine; it helped to ease her nerves since the King was staring at her intensely. _What the fuck is he waiting for? For me to pull shit out of thin air? Stop starring you asshole!_

“Tell me about the land you come from.” Thranduil said, not ask. 

This question again. _Son-of-a-bitch, if I had a dollar every time that question came up I’d be richer than Paul Allen. Damnit, I’ve definitely gotten a lot more cynical as of late. Am I about to go on my period? When have I been a serious PMSer? Whatever, I might as well let the wine finally do the talking._

Ayla took in a slow breath as she set her wine glass down on the finely carved table. She didn’t like to think of home, she also never spoke about it to anyone who asked. Of course the longer she stayed the more her past came to the forefront of her mind. “What would you like to know?”

Thranduil raised a perfect eyebrow, he had been prepared to be rebuffed again for asking. He would not squander this chance to satisfy his curiosity. “What is the name of the land you come from?”

“Washington.” she answered, “But it’s not a land, it’s a State, which is one of fifty in a country called the United States of America, which is also known as North America.” Thranduil took a moment to process what he learned, able to grasp that it was similar to Middle Earth with its many kingdoms and borders. “My home is called Seattle, a city in Washington.”

“Tell me about your city. Is it populated by only humans?”

An amused smiled tugged at her lips, giving her such a sense of irony. “Where I come from elves, orcs, magic, none of that exists. It’s all nothing but make-believe and stories and very elaborate larping.”

“Larping?”

Ayla waived that away, not wanting to get into that dangerous conversation. “Where I’m from, humans are the dominant race, and they believe they have the answers to everything—which of course they don’t but in all fairness we’re a pretty arrogant species.”

It was Thrandiul’s turn to have an amused smile. _Fuck, he was a beautiful man. You hate his guts, remember?_ “What does your city look like?”

“Geez, where do I start?” she sighed before taking a sip of wine. “I guess I can start by saying it’s built on seven hills, two of which are man-made, overlooking a body of water called the Puget Sound. There are tunnels that travel underneath the city for people to quickly travel through while above are crowded streets. There are buildings so tall they make you dizzy just by looking up at them. And at night the city lights up and from a distance the lights look like stars.” Ayla paused for a moment, wondering if it was the wine for making her feel nostalgic for talking about her home or the fact that she might just be hormonal from the possible menstruation she may be experiencing. “Seattle boasts for having the oldest farmer’s market in the country called Pike’s Place, where it’s open every day from dawn to dusk. And no matter what season it is there are always the florist and their hybrid flowers.”

Thranduil could see she was lost in memory, her expression soft and her eyes showing longing. Her pink lips in a neutral state, not showing a frown or a smile. She was the first human he found interesting in many centuries, seeing as how she was obviously not from anywhere he would know of and her speech and mannerisms were also peculiar. If not course and unrefined.

“If you are not from Middle Earth then how did you come here?” Thranduil asked, seeing her return to reality as she turned her head in his direction.

“I don’t know.” she said, her voice soft and carrying a tone of disappointment.

xxxxx 

(Past)

“This is a three star restaurant and you still manage to order trash for your body.” Pamela said as brought a forkful of her steamed salmon to her mouth.

“Like I could give a shit after this morning.” Ayla said before taking a hungry bite of her “gourmet” hamburger. Juice from the meat mixed with the sauce and oil from the grilled onions dripped onto her plate as she chewed with a satisfied moan.

“You’re so vulgar.”

Ayla just gave her a greasy smile as she chewed happily and then swallowed, ready to take another satisfying bite when the customer at the table next to theirs began to choke. Pamela and Ayla both exchanged looks.

“I’m just a surgeon.” Ayla said. In all honesty she didn’t want to do anything heroic. The “Good Samaritan Act” could only protect her from so much from a legal stand point.

“So what? You have the upper body strength.” Pamela said nonchalantly.

Ayla rolled her eyes and wiped her hands on the napkin before she and Pamela rock-paper-scissored. Ayla lost and stood up, going to the choking man while patrons and waiters looked on helplessly. Wrapping her arms around the man from behind she merely gave one firm squeeze into the man’s diaphragm and instantly the man’s steak shot out onto the table.

“Th-thank you! Thank you so much!” the man gasped, looking back at Ayla.

“Uh-huh.” Ayla grunted before sitting back down at the table and resuming her lunch. She couldn’t be bothered with the praise since the love only lasted until the bill was paid.

xxxxx 

(Present)

Dinner had ended but Ayla and the King had moved to the parlor to have another glass of wine. Thranduil wanted to hear more about Ayla’s world and gain further access into the mysterious woman’s past. Sitting on the opposite ends of the couch, a glass of finely aged wine in hand, Ayla’s past began to slowly reveal itself to Thranduil.

“I was married once. We were in medical school together; he was aiming to be a neurologist while minoring in psychiatry. You can probably guess what happened, us being young and stupid and thousands of dollars in debt. Not even a year after we got married did I catch him having sex on our dining table with my half-sister.” Ayla said before taking a gulp of wine. Thranduil was impressed by how much alcohol Ayla could handle and refilled her glass when it was empty, wanting her to go on with more tales of her past.

“You caught your husband being unfaithful to you. I hear infidelity is common place in human marriages.” Thranduil said, feeling his own lips becoming loose. They did polish off three bottles together this evening.

Ayla snorted into a bitter laugh. “Sad but true. I was pretty lucky to have a friend who is a lawyer and was able to settle my divorce quickly and cleanly.”

That evening he learned that Ayla was one of three children in her family, one sister and brother. She was the oldest of the three and the most estranged. Her siblings were from her mother’s second marriage and that it made her feel unwanted and alienated since she took after her father with having dark hair and dark eyes while her siblings, mother, and step-father were all blondes with blue eyes. She was the literal “black sheep” of her family.

He learned that she left home as soon as she was eighteen and went as far away as possible for her schooling. That she chose medicine not because she cared about helping people but because she wanted to be closer to her father after he had passed away.

“Since I got here…I’ve never—never felt more alone.” Ayla said somberly, resting her head against her braced palm. Her eyelids drooped from the alcohol before closing completely.

Thranduil watched her sleep for a bit, calmly repeating her last words in his head. And in a turn of surprise, he felt sorry for her. He felt pity towards the human who irked him on a daily basis. Her loneliness stemmed from childhood, neglected by her own family and betrayed by someone she had exchanged vows with. Such a confession of loneliness only compelled Thranduil to understand and empathize such a feeling for he, too, had experienced loneliness.

Rising up to his feet, he closed the distance between him and Ayla, reaching down and gently pulling her body up into his arms. The smell of wine was strong as the sweetness was beginning to turn sour and by morning, he knew Ayla would no doubt be nursing a terrible hangover.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One step forward three steps back

Ayla was reclined in a chair with Kwenthrith, holding a cold wet cloth over her eyes. Her head was pounding and her stomach felt incredibly acidic while her mouth tasted sour. She had taken a cool bath that morning, an old college hangover trick, but only ended up regretting it as she felt a cold coming on. She couldn’t keep up with the King every night to simply drink and chat but the wine he served was just too damn addicting.

_I need to fucking remember that I’m not in my twenties anymore. ___

__“Drink this,” Kwenthrith had said, setting a cup down in front of Ayla. Sitting up slowly, Ayla gingerly removed the cloth from her eyes and inched her eyes open. The light was an assault to her vision and made her migraine worse as she focused her sight down at the cup with a clear green liquid._ _

__“Is this going to end my misery?” Ayla croaked, her voice hoarse from her midnight marathon of vomiting. She picked up the cup and downed it in one shot, expecting something bitter and disgusting but found that it was like drinking sugar water._ _

__Kwenthrith and Ayla had grown close in the past few months, forming a friendship that gave the misplaced doctor some comfort. Ayla didn’t want to admit to herself that she viewed the beautiful elf maiden as a friend, but it was hard to deny something so obvious. Of course there was also a bit of self-loathing on Ayla’s side since Kwenthrith was so elegant and beautiful that it made Ayla feel incredibly self-conscious to the point that her pre-teen inner-self was practically becoming bulimic with jealousy._ _

__“The king has grown more interested in you these days.” Kwenthrith stated, “Meals together nearly every evening, and late night talks in his private quarters. Rumors are fluttering throughout the Realm.”_ _

__“Don’t believe in whatever rumors are being whispered. All he wants is information about my past and home. Nothing more.” Ayla replied._ _

__Kwenthrith smiled. “I have not seen the King so engaged in years. Not since the queen died. As for the young prince, he has been so happy, smiling and laughing.”_ _

__“Spoiled is what he is.”_ _

__After Ayla felt her hangover relieve its painful hold on her she had gone about her day, usually playing nanny to Legolas when he wasn’t attending his lessons. As she watched him play in the falling snow, chasing a fox around Ayla breathed her hot breath onto her freezing fingers as she shivered in the cold. The cloak she wore was warm despite its thin material but it didn’t mean it was toasty. She should look into procuring a pair of gloves._ _

__Long, pale fingers came into view, grabbing her hands and pulling them to the left. Ayla followed them, looking up to see Thranduil._ _

__“Humans are so fragile to the simplest of things like the change of season.” he said as he held both of Ayla’s hands and warmed them between his (her cheeks were also warming up at the unexpected blush, hopefully he won’t notice). “If you are cold you should go inside to warm yourself.”_ _

__Fighting back her sudden butterflies she threw him a saucy look. It will be a cold day in Hell if she started to let the arrogant king know that she had the hots for him. “Hmm. This random act of kindness seems a bit out of character for you.”_ _

__“Is that what you truly think of me as? Only showing kindness when I have an ulterior motive?” Thranduil asked, dropping her hands. Ayla immediately missed the warmth but didn’t let it show, keeping up her act._ _

__“Well, do you?” Ayla asked, raising a brow at him._ _

__“Kwenthrith tells me that you are feeling restless. Do you wish to not accept my offer of calling this place your home?”_ _

__Ayla licked her chapped lips as she looked away, folding her arms tightly under her breasts. She wasn’t expecting that to come up suddenly. “I can’t stay here forever. I’m a doctor. It’s selfish of me to stay here, living in luxury when there are people out there getting sick and injured with no proper care.”_ _

__There was silence between them for a long minute before Thranduil spoke. “Then you may leave. When winter is gone you are free to go.”_ _

__She looked up at him, surprised that he wasn’t putting up a fight. She was about to thank him when he cut her off._ _

__“Legolas will be heartbroken.”_ _

__Low blow._ _

__But out of curiosity…_ _

__“And what about you? Will you feel my loss after I leave?” Ayla watched the King of Stone and Wood stare back into her eyes, his icy stare thawing just a bit._ _

__“It would be cruel of me to not say that I have found some companionship with you. It will be difficult to replace you for evenings of wine and talk.”_ _

__Ayla couldn’t help the smile that curled her lips. She was going to take this as a personal win. “My, my, if I didn’t know better I’d say you like me.” she teased, unable to help herself. Thranduil’s mouth was pressed firmly together, thinning out his luscious lips._ _

__“I often find you insufferable, now more than ever.”_ _

__xxxxx_ _

__Dinner with Thranduil again had been full of talk about Ayla’s life. Tonight she shared about her father and how he died suddenly while she had been away at school. Thranduil learned that Ayla had loved her father dearly and spent her summers with him and his second wife. She shared that her father had been an accomplished doctor who cared deeply for his patients and that she wanted to be like him which was why she went into medicine._ _

__After dinner they again moved to the parlor to drink more wine in each other’s company._ _

__“Tell me about your life.” Ayla said, looking at Thranduil over her glass of wine._ _

__“Very well, what do you wish to know?” Thranduil offered._ _

__“Do you have any siblings?”_ _

__“No.”_ _

__“What were your parents like?”_ _

__“My mother passed when I was very young, so I have no recollection of her. My father then raised me in his image. He was a fair king and had founded this realm. He was slain during the last alliance of elves and men in the battle of Dagorlad.”_ _

__“Oh,” Ayla said, thinking how that was around the time she “woke up” in Middle Earth. Having appeared after Sauron had been defeated. That was…a very long time ago._ _

__“I have been told that you are teaching Legolas to fight.”_ _

__Ayla bit the inside of her cheek before answering. “I’m not a fighter, but I know basic self-defense. I used to teach the women in the villages I would come across, just enough to protect themselves. Is that a problem?”_ _

__“I simply find it difficult to believe.” He also found it to be an amusing thought as he perceived Ayla to be nothing more than a frail human, despite her unnaturally long life._ _

__“I am more than willing to show you if you’re up for it.” she said, smiling ever so sweetly at him. He didn’t know what possessed him at that moment, pride or perhaps curiosity, but in a matter of minutes, Thranduil had been made a believer._ _

__Ayla had shown some skill, using basic techniques as she had mentioned with just her hands and no weapons. Blocking every grab and swipe from Thranduil, who was steadily increasing his speed and force. He then grabbed her shoulder and had not expected for her to grab his wrist with the opposite hand while also reaching and grabbing his upper arm with the other; twisting around and using his own weight against him, throwing him to the floor on his back. Air had been forced from his lungs on impact while Ayla boldly dropped down and straddled his hips, her hands braced firmly against his shoulders. A satisfied grin on her face._ _

__“You surprise me, Healer. I did not expect you to have that kind of strength.” Thranduil said, not quite admitting that he was wrong as he looked up at her._ _

__“If you had been serious I’m sure you could have easily overtaken me. My way of defense is to merely catch my opponent off guard before running away.” she said while admiring the view of this beautiful man beneath her. His long, silky hair splayed out on the floor, just enticing her to run her fingers through them. Her eyes caught a glimpse of his pink tongue wetting his bottom lip, imagining herself pressing her mouth against his and driving her tongue between his luscious lips to explore and seek out that elusive tongue of his._ _

__Looking up at Ayla he could see the desire in her eyes for him. She was right about how easy it can be to overtake her with physical strength alone, but…he couldn’t bring himself to move just yet. Looking into her eyes, the pupils wide, her lips suddenly pinker and attractive, drawing his attention. He felt entranced. Perhaps she really is a witch. He moved his hands to her thighs and heard her breath catch in her throat and then felt the light tremors of a shiver beneath his palms. What an interesting reaction, he thought to himself as he slid his hands up her soft thighs to her hips. His ears caught the quickening pace of her breaths, shallow and soft. He moved one up to her waist and with a wicked thought, took her by surprise by flipping her over onto her back while he was now on top, looking down at her with a predatory glint in his icy blue stare._ _

__Ayla’s eyes were wide with anticipation, her heart thundering in her chest while heat and desire pooled between her legs. She couldn’t think straight, he only thought was to have this man. Allow him entry into her body between her aching thighs. She didn’t care if he would throw her out on her ass the next day so long as she could feed the desire within her and have him fuck her brains out. Why did he have to be so devastatingly beautiful? Especially with him on top? Fuck it. She’ll just blame it on the good wine._ _

__Ayla reached up and hooked her fingers behind his neck, craning her head up to press her lips to his. They were so soft and warm against her own. Thranduil was caught off guard by her boldness but he did not pull away but did the opposite. He pressed his lips firmly to hers, closing his eyes and savoring the feeling of it. It had been so long since he had allowed himself to have such contact, not since his wife. Tonight, he would allow himself this distraction as he cradled Ayla’s head with one hand, deepening the kiss._ _

__If anything were to come of tonight he at least did not wish for a memory to be made on the floor, and thus pushed up, pulling Ayla up with him. He kissed her again, allowing desire to drive him as it was obviously driving Ayla. Their mouths opening to each other, their tongues gliding and twining in a dizzying dance. The feeling of her nails raking the back of his scalp sent a tingling wave down his spine and he pushed her back towards the sofa, laying her down on the cushions while he balanced himself above her._ _

__This shouldn’t continue and yet Thranduil was making up excuses to justify that it was okay. That all was well. That he simply needed to get this frustrating woman out of his system. Her soft moans and wandering hands only spurned him onward, his mouth descending from her lips down her neck, suckling on the skin at the hollow of her neck. Ayla’s hands groped at his shoulders and upper back, her reach limited from her position on the sofa, but it did allow her wrap her legs around his hips, pulling him down to be cradled between her thighs._ _

__The skirt of her dress had bunched up around her thighs, bare for Thranduil’s large hands to feel. Starting from the back of her knees and gliding up her thighs to curve and grope her bottom, lifting her hips and pushing her up further on the sofa, making room for his long body to lie atop hers. The feeling of his weight on her sent a shock of need throbbing in her core and she knew that she needed him inside her right away to ease the ache he gave her. Her hands moved down between them, feeling his bulge straining against his breeches and heard him hiss in her ear. In a rush of wanton need the ties of his breeches were undone and her smalls were ripped down her legs and lost from sight._ _

__In a swift move Thranduil had sheathed himself to the hilt inside Ayla, both gasping at the sensation of each other. Ayla didn’t need to be prepared, having been wet and ready for him. He filled her completely, not needing to have seen his size, just satisfied by what she felt. She hoped this wasn’t a dream, but if it was, she hoped to remember every last detail. From the way he smelled to the soft noises that came from the both of them as they moved together. The friction and the slickness of her turned any thought in Thranduil’s head into white noise. With every thrust, every gasp of breath and soft moan, he felt himself closer to his finish._ _

__Ayla felt herself coming undone under Thranduil’s ministrations, her legs squeezing his hips tighter as her back arched, her head rolling back. Her inner walls quivered in orgasm around his shaft, and that had been the undoing of Thranduil’s last bit of control as he came, spilling his seed carelessly inside her. As they both slowly came down from their sexual high did it become clear that this fueled tryst of theirs will forever change things between them._ _

__Pushing up onto his elbows Thranduil looked down at Ayla’s face. Her lips were parted as she caught her breath, an attractive flush coloring her skin. Her dark hair had come undone from its braid and a few stray tendrils stuck out, adding a wildness to her appearance. For a human she was, he supposed, pretty, perhaps even beautiful if he were to compare her to other human women he had seen. Even more so beneath him like this, his cock still inside her, feeling the occasional spasm of her inner muscles with the remnants of her completion. It dawned on him that she hadn’t needed any preparation, her body already wet and keening for him before he even entered her. Such a revelation gave him a bit of pride to know that he had that effect on her. Perhaps he will test it again soon._ _

__No. This had been a mistake. He shouldn’t have allowed this to happen._ _

__This cannot happen again._ _

__Ayla placed a hand on his chest, drawing Thranduil back to the moment and felt her palm pressing into him. Pushing him away from her. He allowed it, sliding himself out of her warmth slowly as he sat back against the pillows and she sat up, pushing her skirt down to cover herself. His eyes never left hers, and he watched as she smiled, looking sated and enticing._ _

__“Thank you, my Lord. I really enjoyed myself.” she said before leaning forward and kissing him tenderly on the lips before getting up. “Goodnight.” And then she left._ _

__xxxxx_ _

__The days that followed Thranduil maintained his distance from Ayla, trying to keep things normal as if nothing had happened between them. But something did happen. And things could not proceed like they had been before. He would allow Ayla to continue looking after his son, but something had to be done when it came to himself and Ayla. Remembering their night together made his blood run hot, his body craving more of that contact. His groin growing tight and constricted within his pants._ _

__He had to decide what to do moving forward, how to proceed this relationship with Ayla, to maintain the boundaries that had been previously set. Yet…did he not want things to change? Yes, Ayla proved to be insufferable and frustrating, always rebelling against his authority in his own kingdom. She challenged him in many ways, and she seemed to find a certain amount of joy in flustering his advisors (of which he found amusing at times). From the balcony of where he stood he could see his son, sitting on Ayla’s lap, snuggling against her beneath a blanket wrapped around them both. Ayla was speaking, possibly regaling the prince with a story from her land, and Legolas looked content. His golden head resting soundly against Ayla’s bosom._ _

__Winter was upon them, the air cold and the sky grey. The animals of the forest had quieted, gone into their deep winter sleep, not to be seen again until the frost melted into spring. Watching the two of them Thranduil found himself wanting to be pressed against Ayla once more. He craved the feeling of her warm skin and the sighs of pleasure from her throat, and the sleek warmth between her legs._ _

__He shook those thoughts away. He had to remain firm that such a thing cannot happen again._ _

__But that was easier said than done._ _

__When he summoned her to his study he had every intention of affirming the boundaries between them, but when he saw her standing before him, he fell prey to his selfish weakness. Ayla didn’t seem to mind at all, welcoming his attention and returning it in equal enthusiasm. He found that with every touch, every kiss and every thrust he craved her more and more instead of finding himself purging her from his mind. She was quickly filling his thought and his heart._ _

__A human of all creatures!_ _

__And then winter came to an end, and Ayla left._ _

__xxxxx_ _

__Two months had passed since Ayla had left the Woodland Realm, the parting rather bittersweet for her. Legolas literally threw a tantrum, crying and stomping his foot and clinging to her leg to make her stay. He had taken to calling her _naneth, _of which she had no clue what it meant until Kwenthrith told her the translation in common-speak was mother. It had been a shock to Ayla but in truth, the doctor found it endearing, never having experienced such devoted love before. Of course Legolas wasn’t the only one who wanted Ayla to stay but did not act out like the young prince did. She tried not to let her thoughts linger on the Elvenking, since parting from him had been the hardest. In the months she had stayed in the Woodland Realm, her lust and desire for the beautiful, selfish king evolved into an emotion that she was not ready to face. Thus leaving was for the best.___ _

____~~More like running away.~~ _ _ _ _

____“It’s getting dark, shall we make camp here tonight?” Kwenthrith asked. The elf maiden had chosen to journey with Ayla with the excuse that she wanted to catalog every medical case. The Elvenking allowed it, much to both women’s surprise._ _ _ _

____“Agreed. It would be safer for you, Lady Healer.” said Arlen, a young elf who was assigned by Thranduil to be Ayla’s guard on her journey to nowhere. Arlen reminded Ayla of someone she knew from her past, back when she was a troubled teenager, but pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind. Her past had no place in her present right now._ _ _ _

____Ayla looked ahead, wanting to make it over the next hill before calling it a day. They were just days away from the Misty Mountains; she could see their distant outline. If she were alone that’s what she’d do, but she was now with two people who have never traveled outside the woods. Luckily the worst they had to endure was several weeks of cold spring rain._ _ _ _

____“Yeah, let’s camp here.” Ayla said half-heartedly._ _ _ _

____After making a small fire, Kwenthrith passed out the wineskins filled with water. Ayla made a point to the two elves that having water on their journey was more important than a roof over their heads. Her experience from surviving on her own proved that water was vital, no matter the circumstances._ _ _ _

____“You seem determined to head west towards the mountains.” Kwenthrith noted._ _ _ _

____“It’s not so much as what’s in the mountain as what’s on the other side.” Ayla said, “Years ago I found myself going through the mountains where I met the dwarves who live there. A lot of their people were sick from one of the mines they were tunneling, apparently they hit a pocket of poisonous gas and the fumes traveled through the mine and into where they all lived.”_ _ _ _

____“Dwarves? How unpleasant.” Kwenthrith said._ _ _ _

____The corner of Ayla’s mouth twitched up in a slight smile. “Well they weren’t very welcoming of me when I came across them. In fact, I don’t even know what compelled me to even climb the mountain when I had every intention of staying as close to the base of the mountain. But I did, and they immediately arrested me for just being a human.”_ _ _ _

____“Typical dwarf behavior, they’re hostile to anyone who come near their precious gems.” Arlen said._ _ _ _

____“Well I never made it to their dungeon because as soon as I entered their front door is when I saw all the sick and dying dwarves. I told them that I was a doctor and that I could help. Of course they didn’t believe me at first but they had no other choice but to accept my help. When I was told that this mysterious sickness happened after a mining incident it didn’t take me long to know that half of the sick were already dead.”_ _ _ _

____“How did you cure the other half?” Kwenthrith asked, intrigued by the story. Arlen was also giving her his full attention._ _ _ _

____“You can’t cure a person once they’ve been poisoned by a mystery gas. The most you can do is make them comfortable and help them purge the poison out of their body. Vomiting is usually the fastest way to void most of the poison out if you ingest it, but it has to come out almost immediately. Another way is to flush it out by sweating or excessive urinating. To be blunt, the body has to do all the work; a doctor is pretty useless for that type of poisoning.” Ayla said, keeping the information that in her hospital normally the patient would be hooked up to an oxygen tank and an I.V. drip._ _ _ _

____“So then what else did you do?” Kwenthrith asked._ _ _ _

____“Helped sort out the dead, the dying, and the recovering. It took three days before their King finally heard that a human was taking care of his sick people. He was sick, too, but he was among the recovering. I told him that there was nothing anyone could do except bring clean water and keep them comfortable. It took about a week before everyone was well enough to go back to their usual routines. Safe to say they had blocked off that particular tunnel.”_ _ _ _

____“I have never heard of such a tragedy.” Kwenthrith said._ _ _ _

____“Bad things happen for no reason.” Ayla said._ _ _ _

____“And that is where we are heading? To that dwarf mine?” Kwenthrith asked._ _ _ _

____“Yeah. I figured since I never got a chance to actually get to the other side of the mountain because of my detour into Moria, I might as well see them again.”_ _ _ _

____“You never made it over the Misty Mountains?” Arlen asked, “I thought you did.”_ _ _ _

____“No. I ended up getting turned around, traveling with a group of dwarves who were heading towards the city of Dale where it took me to another dwarf mine inside a mountain. Which in turn is how I got to Lake Town and then ended up in Mirkwood. I guess I’m just really bad with direction.”_ _ _ _

____“Well, it was fortunate for us that you are, otherwise you would not have been brought to us.” Kwenthrith said._ _ _ _

____Ayla gave her a wane smile. “I suppose not.”_ _ _ _

____xxxxx_ _ _ _

____Hiking up a mountain felt harder than she remembered. It was a week since they started their ascent, and they had to unpack their horses and leave them behind, carrying their gear on their backs. If Ayla had to guess, living with the stubborn king and his spoiled son made her sluggish and lazy. She could see her two elven companions were already yards ahead of her._ _ _ _

_____Fuck me for being a lazy couch potato all my life. _she thought bitterly as she wiped her forehead with the back of her sleeve. She was dripping sweat and huffing with each breath. She always hated hiking and camping, and this trip was drudging up bitter memories._ _ _ _ __

____xxxxx_ _ _ _

____(Past)_ _ _ _

____“Ayla, come on, let’s take a family photo in front of the camper.” called her mother, who was getting her young half-siblings in position for the photo while her step-father prepped the camera. “Ayla!”_ _ _ _

____Ayla rolled her eyes and just turned the page in her book from where she sat in her camp chair. She had no interest in pretending to be a happy family when it was obvious that she would be positioned to the side of the family photo._ _ _ _

____“Ayla!” her mother snapped, grabbing the book out of Ayla’s hands and forcing the pre-teen up and pushed her towards the others for the photo. “Why are you being so disobedient?”_ _ _ _

____Ayla didn’t smile for the photo; never able to fully accept her new family and just went through the motions like an atheist on Christmas morning. She always voiced how she wanted to go and live with her father, in spite of the fact that her dad lived in bum-fuck nowhere Idaho. Her step-father worked for Microsoft and would often work between Seattle and Redmond, and her mother got comfortable as a stay-at-home mom who sold homemade soaps at farmers markets. Her half-siblings were little snot-nosed brats once they started talking and walking and started to get older and began to tattle on her for every little thing. She was always put on blast for shit the brats did._ _ _ _

____“Ayla, watch Charlotte and Jackson.” her mother said after the pictures were taken and of course as soon as those words came out those evil little twins went wandering off. Three days in the woods, forced to spend time with a family who pretended to be perfect, was a hell on earth._ _ _ _

____xxxxx_ _ _ _

____(Present)_ _ _ _

____Ayla gratefully drank from her wineskin where she sat on a rock, looking back at where she had been. Nearly a whole day’s journey and she could still see the ground. They were nowhere near the mines and Ayla could only guess that they were a few days away._ _ _ _

____“Are you still tired or do you think you can go a bit further?” Kwenthrith asked._ _ _ _

____“Yeah, I can keep going.” Ayla said, packing her wineskin and shouldering her gear. She groaned inwardly as she pushed herself up, her thighs burned from lifting her own weight plus baggage._ _ _ _

____“The air is beginning to feel colder, will you be all right?” Kwenthrith asked over her shoulder._ _ _ _

____“Don’t worry about me,” Ayla huffed, already feeling the sweats coming._ _ _ _

____They climbed rocks, the trail having vanished hours ago. As the daylight began to fade into night, Ayla couldn’t stop doubting that a faint, foul smell was growing steadily stronger. It was a smell that was a mix of sweat, bodily waste, and weeks old dirty gym socks._ _ _ _

____“Stop.” Ayla said above a whisper, knowing that despite being yards ahead of her, her two elven companions heard her as they stopped and looked back at her. “Do you smell that?”_ _ _ _

____“Yes,” Arlen said, coming back down with Kwenthrith to Ayla. “What is it?”_ _ _ _

____Ayla sighed softly, “That’s right; I keep forgetting that you two haven’t been outside of Mirkwood. It’s the smell of an orc camp.”_ _ _ _

____Kwenthrith gasped while Arlen reached for his sword._ _ _ _

____“We need to move quickly without being seen. We might actually have to go down and find a different path.” Ayla said._ _ _ _

____“But we’ve already come so far.” Arlen said._ _ _ _

____“He’s right; it would be a waste of our time to circle back.” Kwenthrith said._ _ _ _

____Ayla shook her head. “You both don’t get it. They’ll kill us once they catch our scent. It’s better to waste our time finding an alternate route than risk getting caught.” She reached out and touched their arms. “You need to trust me. We can’t fight them or outrun them. If they catch us they will kill us.”_ _ _ _

____A horn blew, the sound choking out the silence. Ayla felt her blood run cold as a dead silence followed before it was broken again by screeching and howls. There was banging, possibly weapons against shields._ _ _ _

____“Run.” Ayla said, and when they didn’t move she shoved them towards the opposite direction. “Run!”_ _ _ _

____Ayla ran behind the two, falling fast behind them. It had gotten dark fast and she could barely see, no thanks to the new moon. Her foot caught onto a rock and she fell, rolling down a few yards, feeling rocks jab into her body before coming to a halt, but not before hitting her head and losing consciousness._ _ _ _

____xxxxx_ _ _ _

____(Past)_ _ _ _

____Ayla sat in the back row of the church while the eulogy was going on. Her father had passed away in a car accident and the news had crushed her. She found out through her mother who had called her days before her finals at university, the way her mother’s voice sounded cold and nonchalant while holding a tune of false sympathy. Ayla loved her father, but because of her mother, she hadn’t been allowed to see her father much until high school. Like her mother, her father remarried as well but didn’t have children. His new wife couldn’t have children._ _ _ _

____Sitting quietly in the back, watching, but not listening to all of the mourners talk about her father and how he was a good man. She just zoned out, remembering the times she had with him. She wanted to remember all of the good times, but now she’ll only have an emptiness in her chest. She’ll never again look forward to every holiday break just to be with him and be his daughter again, to feel free and happy as a daughter should. Now she’ll never sit on their park bench on the 4th of July, eating ice cream together and people watch. She’ll never open presents on Christmas with him and Stella. Never sneak in Chinese take-out into the movie theater and then later read the fortunes from the fortune cookies. Never again will she enjoy those things she had taken for granted._ _ _ _

____She felt so numb and empty at the loss of her father._ _ _ _

____Her heart was broken._ _ _ _

____She was alerted back to reality when the people began to line up to say their final goodbye to her father who was lying in an open casket. She looked at all the people dressed in black. She caught a glimpse of a beautiful face and platinum hair looking her way before her focus was eclipsed to a woman who sat down next to her. Stella had lost weight and had dark circles under her eyes. She put her hand over Ayla’s and squeezed her fingers gently._ _ _ _

____“I’m sorry to take you away from your studies. I know your exams are coming up.” Stella said. “Your father’s passing was just so sudden and I couldn’t bring myself to tell you what happened. That’s why I called your mother and asked for her to tell you.”_ _ _ _

____“Did he suffer?” Ayla asked._ _ _ _

____“No. No, kitten. The collision—it…” she couldn’t say it but Ayla knew. Her father died immediately, sparing him from suffering._ _ _ _

____“Thank you, Stella. You’ve been so kind to me like I was your own. You’re more than a step-mom to me, I think of you as my real mom.” Ayla said. Stella pulled her into a tight hug. She felt the tears come as she finally began to cry._ _ _ _

____Ayla stayed until the final mourner left before going up to the casket at last. She peered down at the body—her father. It felt so surreal, like he would wake up any second. The mortician had done a marvelous job in hiding the injuries her father had sustained. She cried again, sniffling and trembling with emotion. Wishing that this was just a horrible nightmare and that she would wake from it any moment now. But the pain of it all…the pain was real, reminding her that this was real. Cruel and cold._ _ _ _

____“Your father was a good man. A great surgeon.” came a velvety voice. Ayla didn’t turn around, too engrossed in her own pain to care to look at who was speaking to her. “He spoke proudly of you; he was a very proud father to have such a devoted daughter.”_ _ _ _

____Ayla finally turned around to look at him._ _ _ _

____xxxxx_ _ _ _

____(Present)_ _ _ _

____Ayla’s head was pounding as she struggled to wake up. Her senses were disoriented, all except for pain however. Her vision slowly began to focus, the blobs around her began to take shape and focus into sharper images, her hearing following as the sounds of grunts and growls tuned in. The smell of death alerted the rest of her senses as she saw orcs moving about their camp. Panic spiked quickly in Ayla as she looked around, seeing if Kwenthrith and Arlen had evaded capture._ _ _ _

_____“Healer of many lands.” _Ayla looked up at a large orc that walked up to her, his stained armor decorated with fangs of the beasts he killed and a chain he took pleasure in wrapping around the necks of his victims. The orc knelt down in front of her to her level; the stench of his breath was strong enough to kill weeds. _“Your death will be felt by many.”_ _ _____


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reflection of death and mortality and how the people affected try to cope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to clarify that the reflections of Ayla's pasts are from different time periods of her life and career, not all are from one specific year and time

“Dr. Ayla Soryn, you have been summoned here today in front of the Medical Board to recount your involvement with the controversial case of the deceased patient, Mr. Andrew Gath.”

Ayla sat in the hot seat before the Medical Board, because they believed that she had to prove her case that it was medically just and sound. Of course she wasn’t the only one being grilled, just a few hours before her associate Dr. Pamela Hana, the Resident Director was in her place, having to recount the case word for word.

“The deceased patient in question had stage four terminal cancer that had started in his lungs and then traveled to his lymph nodes; metastasizing rapidly to the point where our conventional pain medications were no longer enough.” Ayla began, finding this meeting to be pointless since she did nothing wrong. “He had then decided to stop all treatments because of how aggressive the cancer had become and while he was still in a sound state of mind had signed a DNR. The medical staff had done everything in their control to make the patient as comfortable as possible but the round-the-clock pain medication wasn’t enough for the patient who then requested to be euthanized humanely. Thus an expedited order was put in.” 

“Euthanizing patients is a very controversial subject here in the State of Washington. In some cases; _illegal.” ___

__Ayla resisted the urge to click her tongue and rolled her eyes, resigning to simply recross her legs by the knees and crossing her arms under her breasts. “The patient had signed a consent for a euthanasia with the witnesses being Dr. Hana, myself, the patient’s lawyer and the patient’s spouse. As doctors I know we all take an oath of 'Do No Harm,' but when it comes to a patient suffering with no good ending, then it is our jobs as doctors to do what is best to end the patient’s suffering, even if it means to consent to their wish of taking death into our hands instead of waiting for the patient to die.”__

__

__

____“You and Dr. Hana proceeded without consulting with the Board.”_ _ _ _

____“To put in an appeal for the Board to approve the request for the patient to end his life was pointless and a waste of time.”_ _ _ _

____“Waste of time?”_ _ _ _

____“By the time you would have taken to review the appeal the patient would have died an agonizingly slow death all because he needed an O-K from people who shouldn’t have a say on whether he should die on his terms or suffer a few hours more.”_ _ _ _

____“Dr. Soryn, I warn you that you are walking on thin ice right now. Please, continue with your side of the case.”_ _ _ _

____Ayla took in a deep breath, finding the Board to be nothing more than a bunch of stick up rich bastards who drive sports cars that are inappropriate for their age. “In the State of Washington, for a person to be legally euthanized by free will with six months of less to live, they must be a born and raised citizen of Washington State. You can look it all up under the Death with Dignity Act of Washington State.” She took another deep breath, seeing that the old farts in front of her weren’t impressed. “The patient fell under those legal parameters, he was terminally ill with less than six months to live; he was a born and raised resident of Washington and wanted to die with dignity. As doctors, is it not our duty to do what is best for the patient?”_ _ _ _

____“And how is it that you got involved with Dr. Hana’s patient?”_ _ _ _

____“Dr. Hana had asked me to be her witness while the patient’s spouse and lawyer were present as protocol requires. Dr. Hana was the patient’s primary care provider and I was the patient’s surgeon when he needed his spleen removed after the cancer had destroyed it. Along with his prostate—but that was a separate issue years before.”_ _ _ _

____“And why were you the one to deliver the lethal dose when the patient had requested Dr. Hana to do it?”_ _ _ _

____Ayla thought back to that day, the hesitation in her colleague’s movements and the slight trembling in her hand that held the syringe. Ayla didn’t know why she felt compelled to step in but she had a feeling it was because she dealt with life and death daily in the operating room and had lost more patients than Pamela._ _ _ _

____“Dr. Hana had too much compassion for the patient and was unable to perform her duty, so I stepped in.”_ _ _ _

____“Are you implying that you had no compassion when you gave the patient the lethal dose?”_ _ _ _

____“Please don’t twist my words. It’s true that I wasn’t as close to the patient as Dr. Hana, but I am close to Dr. Hana and my compassion was to spare her of the guilt.”_ _ _ _

____She remembered taking the syringe carefully from Pamela, touching the woman’s shoulder and seeing the fear in her usually fearless eyes. She understood that this wasn’t an easy job. Ayla stuck the needle into the rubber base of the IV bag and pushed the plunger all the way, allowing the lethal cocktail to travel down the IV tube and into the patient. They all stood back, waiting. The one thing that stuck to Ayla the most was that the patient smiled before finally passing._ _ _ _

____“Thank you, Dr. Soryn, you may leave.”_ _ _ _

____Ayla stood up and walked out of the conference room._ _ _ _

____xxxxx_ _ _ _

____(Present)_ _ _ _

____Ayla was in the pit of hungry monsters. Orcs were her least favorite of creatures she had encountered in Middle Earth. It was just her luck that she got captured by orcs. She had saved a few orcs in the past, all of whom never thanked her but they didn’t kill her, which was enough for her. She had learned the hard way that all life, no matter whose, was worth saving, whether she wanted to save them or not. She saved the lives of criminals and monsters, not because she was threatened, but because she didn’t want to feel their deaths onto herself because she made the conscious choice to ignore them. The pain of another’s death when she chose to let them die was more excruciating than any pain she had ever experienced._ _ _ _

____“No! No!” Ayla screamed, resisting with everything she had as she was being dragged towards the rock that was covered in old, dried blood. They were going to kill her just for the sport of it._ _ _ _

____She was thrown down onto the rock facing upward, her arms and legs bound by chains. The leader of the hoard picked up his axe and slowly approached Ayla. She tried to pull at the chains, desperate to escape with her head but could barely move an inch. With the axe raised up over her, Ayla could only watch in dread as the axe came down._ _ _ _

____As the sun came up the orcs had long since abandoned their camp, moving through the mountain pass, leaving behind their garbage. Kwenthrith and Arlen had gotten lost during the night, only to find each other when confronted by patrolling dwarves who were on the hunt for the orcs. They were both taken as prisoners and forced to travel with them on the patrol when they finally came upon the abandoned camp site…and Ayla._ _ _ _

____At the sight of the axe embedded in Ayla’s chest, and the amount of blood that had stained the rocks and ground, Kwenthrith had lost the strength in her legs as she fell to her knees. Elves were not known for shedding tears or expressing sorrow but the love Kwenthrith had for Ayla was strong enough to make her weep for the woman whom she saw as a treasured friend. Arlen, on the other hand, was filled with rage and anger with a sudden lust for revenge._ _ _ _

____One of the dwarves approached where Ayla’s body lay, climbing up onto the rock and removing the axe from her chest. A sickening crunching sound could be heard, making the two elves cringe. Two more dwarves joined the first, assembling a makeshift stretcher to put her body on. The leader of the patrol commanded that they return to the mines to regroup. Arlen helped Kwenthrith stand as they followed the dwarves, neither of them able to look at the body. The two elves did not receive a warm welcome but were not thrown into the dungeon after explaining that they were travelling with Ayla, whom they knew the dwarves knew of her._ _ _ _

____“Take the body down into the cold room.” ordered Durin, the Dwarf King of Moria._ _ _ _

____“I beg of you, My Lord,” Kwenthrith said, finally finding her voice, “Allow me to follow them so that I may clean and prepare the…my friend.”_ _ _ _

____King Durin looked up at Kwenthrith, seeing the sorrow in her violet eyes, he could not help but feel sympathy for her as he nodded his consent for her to follow the dwarves down into the deepest part of the mine where it was so cold that ice and rock were one._ _ _ _

____xxxxx_ _ _ _

____(Past)_ _ _ _

____“Do you ever wonder what death feels like?” Pamela asked while she and Ayla sat in the hospital’s chapel after their mandatory psych evaluations the day after the euthanasia patient._ _ _ _

____“That’s a morbid subject, what brought that on?” Ayla asked as she brought her cup of coffee up to her lips and took a sip of the bitter hot liquid. Hospital coffee was the worst but it would have to do for now._ _ _ _

____Pamela sighed as she crossed her legs and stuck a joint between her red lips and lit it up. “Has our job as doctors desensitize us to the point where we’re on the verge of becoming sociopaths?”_ _ _ _

____“You mean we’re not already?”_ _ _ _

____“You make a good point.” she said while sucking in the smoke and holding it in her lungs before letting it out slowly. Ayla took the joint from Pamela’s fingers, trading it with her cup of disgusting hospital coffee and took in a long drag. “If I had a choice in my own death I would like to die while in a depraved orgy of gorgeous men.”_ _ _ _

____They switched again._ _ _ _

____“I haven’t given it much thought before. I guess dying in my sleep would be okay, comfortable in my own bed without knowing it was coming.”_ _ _ _

____“What would be the worst, you think?”_ _ _ _

____“I’ve seen enough zombie movies to say being eaten alive would probably suck a lot. What about you?”_ _ _ _

____“Choking on cock.”_ _ _ _

____A silence fell over them before they both burst into laughter._ _ _ _

____“We’re definitely fucked up.” Ayla laughed as they traded joint and coffee._ _ _ _

____“Which is why we’re such good friends.” Pamela said, taking a sip of the coffee and grimacing._ _ _ _

____Ayla blew out the smoke in an even stream. “This is some good stuff, you buy this in Pike’s Market?”_ _ _ _

____“Makes up for the shit hospital coffee, right?”_ _ _ _

____“All we need now is some crushed up Percocet in the coffee and this day will fly by.”_ _ _ _

____Pamela reached into her pocket of her lab coat and pulled out a bottle of pills. “It’s not Percocet but it’ll have a similar effect.”_ _ _ _

____Ayla smirked, taking the bottle and reading the label: Oxycodone. “Must be nice being Resident Director, you get access to all the fun narcotics.”_ _ _ _

____“And you surgeon jockeys have access to the anesthesia.”_ _ _ _

____“Have you noticed when our job gets too hard we both come here to the hospital’s chapel to get fucked up?”_ _ _ _

____“Why do you think most doctors become closeted drug addicts?”_ _ _ _

____“Well, it’s hard to deny that we’re not there.” Ayla said, popping a pill into her mouth. The idea of death wasn’t foreign to her, but when it came to it actually happening to her was hard to wrap her mind around. What would it feel like to actually die? Reading the label on the bottle again Ayla took notice of the expiration date. “Pam, these expired two years ago.”_ _ _ _

____“So you’ll get a delayed high, just pace yourself on the floor.” Pamela said, taking the bottle from Ayla and popping two pills into her mouth._ _ _ _

____xxxxx_ _ _ _

____(Present)_ _ _ _

____Kwenthrith could easily ignore the frigid cold of the store room where Ayla’s body had been placed. The elf had taken it upon herself to bring clean water in a bucket with rags, cleaning Ayla’s body. Knowing she was alone, she was able to cry freely. It had only been a day but for once time felt like it was moving too slow. She wanted the pain to go away quickly. Waiting in the wings of her sorrow was dread as she thought of how heartbroken the young prince would be to learn that Ayla was killed by orcs. Legolas would surely recoil back into himself and the light in her King’s eyes will quickly dull once more._ _ _ _

____She knew that her King had grown close with Ayla, moreso in the last month before leaving. The evidence had been marked in Ayla’s neck though Kwenthrith had kept it to herself. Kwenthrith had such hopes that Ayla would bring love back into her King’s heart again, but that hope was now dead._ _ _ _

____“Forgive me, Ayla,” Kwenthrith whispered, her head bowed. “It should be me on this table, not you. We should have listened to you when you told us to turn back and find another route…it isn’t fair.”_ _ _ _

____“Kwenthrith,” came Arlen’s voice from the door. “Come back up, it is not healthy to stay here with just your grief to keep you company.” He walked into the room and touched Kwenthrith’s cold shoulder. “It is best to let her go.”_ _ _ _

____It had been decided that at dawn Arlen and Kwenthrith would return to Mirkwood. The dwarves were generous in giving them supplies for the journey home and King Durin had invited them to join him for dinner._ _ _ _

____“I owe the Lady Healer a great debt for what she has done for my people.” said King Durin, “She saved many of my people from illness and much more. She taught us that death is never a permanent ending.”_ _ _ _

____“She taught me many things in her trade as a healer, techniques that I would have never imagined to be possible.” Kwenthrith said._ _ _ _

____“She was also fearless.” Arlen said._ _ _ _

____“Did you know that when my people were ailing from a mysterious sickness I was but a mere youngling?” Durin asked, “My father was King then, when the Lady Healer walked through our gates she immediately took over.” he chuckled at the memory. “She didn’t care who was who, she immediately took charge and within a month all had gone back to normal and the Lady Healer left with a party of dwarves to the Lonely Mountain. My father was so grateful that he decreed that should the Lady Healer return, to immediately prepare a feast for her. And as you can see, I kept my father’s vow, although under some dire circumstances.”_ _ _ _

____“So then the tales were true. Ayla was immortal.” Kwenthrith said._ _ _ _

____“She is no ordinary human,” Durin said, “I’ve seen her come back from death itself.” Kwenthrith and Arlen exchanged looks before looking back at Durin who took a large bite of meat. “If gods do exist, then I believe Ayla is one of them, perhaps even the last of them.”_ _ _ _

____“Such myths have no place in reality.” Arlen said._ _ _ _

____xxxxx_ _ _ _

____(Past)_ _ _ _

____A tiny bell chimed._ _ _ _

____“Inhale through the nose and then exhale through the mouth, raising her chin to the ceiling. Now inhale again and exhale as we bend forward, bringing our palms to the floor. Step back with the right foot and fold the leg in front, stretching out those hamstrings and hips.”_ _ _ _

____Friday morning in Seattle. A week after the euthanized patient case. Ayla was back to her routine, normalizing her days again as she cleared her mind. Yoga wasn’t her go-to stress reliever but Pamela insisted that she give it a try every now and then. Normally Ayla would have simply gone to kickboxing class or simply stayed at home, binge-watching Netflix with a bottle of wine. But her friend had insisted that she join her every Friday for yoga, whether she liked it or not._ _ _ _

____Ayla still couldn’t stop thinking about that patient and she tried countless times to rationalize it. She had lost patients on the table before, why should that patient have been any different? Was it because she did it with the intention to kill versus trying to save him? Or was it because the patient had asked for death instead of waiting to suffer more? Had it been out of mercy or was it simple curiosity in knowing what it felt like to intentionally kill someone?_ _ _ _

____“What shitty weather we’re having again.” Pamela said as they stepped outside the studio._ _ _ _

____“Makes me drowsy.” Ayla said, wishing she had a cigarette._ _ _ _

____“So tell me, are you going to visit your family this weekend for the home wrecker's birthday?”_ _ _ _

____“Fuck no,” Ayla said, “I have no intention whatsoever to see those people willingly. I’d rather rip out my fingernails than go to another excuse of a family gathering. Besides, I think I’ve made myself clear the last time I saw Charlotte, breaking her nose and all.”_ _ _ _

____“Yes, husband snatchers seem to always have a superiority complex, don’t they? Which reminds me, I had a mother bring in her ten year-old the other day who had a cold while his mother was absolutely convinced that he had cancer. After reading his medical history the poor kid was on at least a dozen medications that were actually making him worse. It was one of those classic cases of Munchhausen bi-proxy.” Pamela said, “I ended up writing a prescription for Xanax for the mother and then calling social services.”_ _ _ _

____“Geez, parenting nowadays has become a blood-sport. Those poor kids are deprived of Twinkies and peanut butter and getting the measles all because their psycho parents don’t do their proper research. Honestly, if I were a parent and my kid couldn't bring a PB &J sandwich to school then I'd make a point that those anti-vaccer parents couldn't let their kids bring the plaque into the classroom.”_ _ _ _

____“So true. It's a shame that those anti-vaccers can't see that they're doing more harm than good.” Pamela said as they walked down the sidewalk towards a covered street corner where they waited for their Uber driver. “That patient’s family sent me flowers with a Thank You card attached to it. Isn’t that ridiculous?”_ _ _ _

____“None of my patients ever send me gifts.” Ayla commented._ _ _ _

____“I obviously threw them away after my day was over. Who would want to be reminded of something like that?”_ _ _ _

____“For doctors like us, very few cases stand out and stick around. It’s gonna be awhile before we completely recover from something like that.”_ _ _ _

____Pamela stared at her friend for awhile before speaking. “I never thanked you for stepping in that day. It’s a simple thing to read about but when it comes to actually doing it, that’s a whole different thing. If you weren’t there I don’t think I would have been able to step into that room let alone hold up that syringe.”_ _ _ _

____Ayla looked back at the woman, seeing the sincerity in her eyes. “You would have done the same for me.”_ _ _ _

____Pamela’s pink lips strained to smile. “No, I’d probably lose my nerve again. I’m not that emotionally strong.”_ _ _ _

____Ayla looked away to the passing cars in the street. “I wonder sometimes if I'm just emotionally broken. Maybe I am a sociopath.”_ _ _ _

____Pamela bumped her shoulder against Ayla’s. “At least you’re in the right profession if you are.”_ _ _ _

____xxxxx_ _ _ _

____(Present)_ _ _ _

____Kwenthrith entered the cold store room where Ayla’s body still lay. She choked down her sorrow, having promised herself to keep a steady head in honor of her friend. Entering slowly with a torch in hand she moved forward towards the body that had remained still, yet somewhere deep inside she had hoped that this was a false truth, that Ayla was still alive. She set the torch in its holder before taking her seat beside her friend._ _ _ _

____“I do not wish to leave you but Arlen insists that we return home to Mirkwood. He says it is our duty to tell our king that you are now gone.” Kwenthrith said, feeling her emotions beginning to get the better of her as tears stung her eyes. “Please…give me a sign.” she whispered with grief as she reached out for Ayla’s frozen hand. She paused and looked at her hand on Ayla’s, expecting a stiff limb but instead felt soft flesh. Standing she looked down at Ayla’s face, her sharp sight able to see the faintest of color in her cheeks. Her eyes immediately went to the wound in her chest, pulling back the cloth and gasped in shock. The wound was gone and in its wake was a pink line._ _ _ _

____Kwenthrith pressed her ear over the scar, her heart giving a jolt as she heard the slow, weak beat of Ayla’s heart. “By the light of Valor…” she said softly as she moved her head to hover over Ayla’s, her hands cradling her face. She touched her forehead to Ayla’s. “My beloved friend, you truly are touched by the Valor. I will await for you to open your eyes, no matter how long.”_ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're a firm believer that vaccines are not for your health benefit then please consult with your Primary Care Physician. Vaccines were created for a good reason, and they benefit not only yourself and your children, but also helps the community as a whole to stay healthy and keep those diseases (i.e. measles, mumps, rubella, polio, small pox, etc.) from making a vengeful comeback.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dealing with the aftermath of returning from death and Ayla struggles with what she truly wants. Plus she meets the friendly hobbits.

Coming back from the dead was so much harder than coming back from the brink of death. Her senses would always come back all at once, overloading her brain with too much information and leaving her in a state of shock for hours. However, unlike the last time, Ayla didn’t wake up alone; Kwenthrith was there and was now attending to her every need, nursing her back to full strength. She had been moved into one of Durin’s lavish guest wings, with all the comforts and finery that their host had been generous to offer. Ayla didn’t remember where she was or the people who were with her. It all had to come back to her with time, which usually took a week for the majority of her amnesia to subside.

Ayla knew that her elven companions had a lot of burning questions, especially in regards to her “revival.” Luckily they had the sense to keep those questions to themselves for now. Ayla was in no mood to answer their questions when she herself didn’t have a satisfying answer. The worst part of it all was how Ayla had come to her own conclusion that she was somehow cursed to live forever without ever getting an answer herself, and the more answers she tried to come up with, the more it felt like an excuse to make herself feel better.

 _What a mess._ she thought with a sigh as she looked out at the grey horizon from the main entrance of the mines. _I’m no closer to an answer of why I’m here than I was from the start. All I know is that I need to keep searching. I want to go home._ Her mind flashed to Thranduil and Legolas. Did she want to go home after everything? She wasn’t the same woman anymore. She wasn’t sure she was even human anymore.

“Lady Ayla, you should not be out here alone.” Kwenthrith said, clearly concerned for Ayla’s well-being. Ayla appreciated the concern that Kwenthrith showed, but wished the elven woman would simply leave her alone. As rare as it is, whenever Ayla was “reborn” from death, her real personality was hard to reign in. Her speech and manners would be harsh and unrefined. Her emotions were also all over the map that took awhile to get under control. All Ayla wanted to do from the moment she woke up from death was scream and cry and throw breakable things against the wall.

And do a lot of blow. Man she craved that the most whenever this happens.

“Lady Ayla?” Kwenthrith said, coming closer to Ayla.

“Don’t,” Ayla said, stopping the other woman. “I just need to be alone.”

Once she knew she was alone again, Ayla let out a frustrated sigh. Along with feeling aggressive she was also feeling incredibly horny and the space away from others was all she could do from jumping on the next dick she came across. It was going to be agony recovering from death.

xxxxx

(Past)

Pamela and Ayla both came up from the tabletop in front of them, a finger to their noses as they sniffed. They were sitting in the backroom of a club together, finals for medical school completed and it was time to make use of the pills they still had left over from a previous party. Celebrating their achievement together by going out clubbing, getting an awesome buzz, letting loose, and ultimately leaving with a guy (maybe two).

This was stop number three of the night, and this was hit number…Ayla lost count.

Ayla didn’t think she would find such a close friendship with Pamela, but she did. From the very first day of medical school they bonded over how much they had in common without even realizing. The most important is that they both were practical in a sense where their approaches to life centered around from using basic common sense (most of the time).

“Let’s let our party goblins out! WOOO!” Pamela cheered. 

They both left their booth and went out towards the dance floor. High off drugs and with alcohol in her system, Ayla let herself get lost in the pulsing music and strobing lights and grinding, sweaty bodies. At some point during the night, for some unknown reason, Ayla felt like she needed to leave the club. She looked around for Pamela who had vanished in the throngs of swaying and grinding bodies. Ayla pushed her way through the jungle of party-goers, her vision slightly impaired and her head swaying, or was that just her? She managed to get back to their booth and found Pamela engaged with a stranger, dry humping in the booth. 

“Pam! Paaaaam! C’mon, let’s go!” Ayla slurred.

“I’ll catch up with you.” Pamela said, still grinding against her stranger while she looked over her shoulder at Ayla. Her eyes glazed from the drugs and booze. “Tell me your story tomorrow.”

Ayla turned away and walked towards the exit as best as she could, going through the backdoor into the alleyway. The cold air sobering enough to give her the sense to walk out onto the main sidewalk where there were people. Still high and drunk (and in heels that were really killing her feet) Ayla took out her phone and looked up her ex-boyfriend’s contact number, drunk texting him that she still loved him before turning her phone off. 

What street was she on?

Her shabby apartment is in Salt City and she and Pamela started off their night in Northgate. Looking up at the street signs and landmarks, Ayla found that she was too fucked up to read. She covered one eye, thinking it might help her focus on the letters but that didn’t help. She began to walk a few blocks before realizing that the reason why she couldn’t read any of the store and street signs was because she was in the International District of Seattle.

**WTF?!**

“Well…no wonder,” she slurred, feeling like she was going to vomit but managed to keep it down as she walked towards the train station. Did she bring her orca card for the train? Was the train still running at…what time is it? She dug around in her purse for her phone to check the time but was too messed up to find it.

Fuck it, it’s probably too late for a train or bus.

Maybe an Uber. There’s her phone! Why was her phone off? How do you turn it on again?

A car pulled up on the curb in front of her. It was a sleek car that wasn’t uncommon in Seattle but what was uncommon was the driver of the car.

“That was fast.” she slurred, her eyes squinting down at the black screen of her phone. “When did I…?”

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.” came a masculine, velvety voice that wrapped invisible tendrils around Ayla’s brain, enchanting her in her drunken stupor. “Get in, I’ll take you home.”

As if under a spell she got in the car against her better judgment. She looked at the man, unable to focus on his features; all she could gather was that he had pale skin and platinum blonde hair. The faint smell of cedar and spice filled the car. Finally in silence, Ayla blacked out from her night out with Pamela. When she next woke up she was still in the car, her clothes were still on, and her brain was still in a swamp. The only difference was that the car was parked outside her apartment building. She looked over to the mystery driver who was still out of focus. She was sure he was talking to her but she wasn’t on the same mental plain as him.

Her next actions could simply be blamed on the alcohol as she moved closer to him and kissed him on the lips. He obviously didn’t push her away as she made out with this mystery Samaritan. Ayla had the idea of straddling him in his seat but her stomach had other plans as the need to vomit overtook everything and she pushed away quickly and opened the door on her side, her head hanging out as she heaved and purged most of the alcohol she had consumed that night. She felt his hand on her back which sent a signal to her brain that she needed to get out and go home.

The question of who he was. Why he helped her. Why he knew where she lived. All of that never came to mind as she only had enough cognitive functioning to focus on getting through the front door of her apartment. Waking up on her couch the next morning, flat on her face, head throbbing and sore from the night before was proof that she survived yet another night of poor decisions. Ayla slowly got up, her hands completely numb from sleeping with her whole body weight on top of them. Her hands were useless, bloated flippers attached to her wrists until the feeling returned.

“Fuuuuuuck.” she groaned, trying to get her bearings. She was in her living room, she was still in her party dress, and she had lost one of her heels. Her mouth tasted like vomit and regret. On the plus side, her crowning achievement of that night was that she didn’t die. Ayla looked to her phone, finding that it had been turned off. She turned it on and discovered she had ten text messages and missed calls, all from her ex. Why would he be texting her?

“Gotta pee.” she grumbled, getting up and kicking off her remaining heel she shuffled her feet to the bathroom and cleaned herself up. Looking at herself in the mirror she saw on the left side of her face was—Is that a cushion scar? She obviously got it from sleeping so hard on the pillow. Getting undressed, Ayla needed to get back into routine and wash away the night before.

“How did I get home last night?”

xxxxx

(Present)

Kwenthrith and Arlen watched Ayla gorge herself in beer and red meat with the other dwarves. Ever since Ayla’s revival she had been acting strange, like a dormant part of her personality had woken up. She spoke with less reservation and was allowing herself to become inebriated with drink, almost as if this was the real Ayla and not the passionate, caring woman who healed their prince. Kwenthrith felt very disillusioned by this new Ayla and saw this woman to be a stranger with her friend’s face. Excusing herself, Kwenthrith walked out of the hall, hugging herself. She wasn’t used to feeling this way and she didn’t like it. The one person she thought she knew wasn’t who she thought she was. In fact, when it came to Ayla, Kwenthrith only knew from what she saw and what little that had been willingly shared. 

“Kwenthrith, are you feeling unwell?” Arlen asked, coming up behind her.

“Yes, I am very unwell.” she said, “She’s not herself, Arlen. She’s changed. I feel like that woman in there is an imposter and I don’t know how to approach the situation.”

“She went through a lot. We went through a lot.” Arlen said, trying to sooth the elf maiden with reason. “It would be unfair for Lady Ayla if we were to abandon her because she is acting unlike herself.”

“What if she never comes back?” Kwenthrith asked, voicing her fear.

“I know you and Ayla are close, but is that not all the reason more to stay with her? This phase may pass and she will return to her normal self.” Arlen said, trying to be reassuring. 

“I fear that the woman inside there is the real Ayla and the one we know was one of her possibly many masks.” Kwenthrith said.

“If you love her then you should give her time. We will be leaving this place soon.” Arlen said.

For the next two weeks, Ayla returned to full health and the small group of three was ready to leave. Kwenthrith held onto the hope that her Ayla will return, even if it were just an act. Losing her was heart breaking and getting her back brought more joy than her heart could hold onto. She loved Ayla dearly, so much so that she needed to protect the memory of the woman she knew. When they reached the halfway point down the mountain where the paths split they stopped and Ayla turned to look back at them.

“This is where we part ways.” she said curtly.

Arlen and Kwenthrith were both perplexed by the sudden change in plans.

“Why? Why do you want to part?” Kwenthrith asked, unable to conceal the hurt in her voice.

“It is not safe to be out here alone.” Arlen said.

“Listen, I’ve been travelling around for _years_ on my own, and I did just fine. My recent death and coming back from that only exposes me to questions I know you have about me of which I don’t have answers to.” Ayla said, feeling herself getting upset with every word. “I can’t face you both and pretend like nothing happened.”

“Ayla, of course we have questions. You came back from the dead and your entire demeanor has changed!” Kwenthrith said.

“I haven’t changed, Kwen! I’m just angry!” Ayla yelled.

“Angry about what?” Kwenthrith asked.

“I’m angry because I’m still stuck in this world!” Ayla revealed, giving the two elves pause. “Yeah! That’s the look I expected. I’m not from your world. I come from a world where elves and dwarves and orcs are all fantasy and make believe and _every_ morning when I wake up still here in this renaissance faire is another morning of disappointment!”

Kwenthrith didn’t know what to say, lost for words as she struggled to comprehend this new information. And also very insulted.

“You both might be immortal but if you had an axe buried in your chest you wouldn’t live. And you most certainly won’t resurrect afterwards.” Ayla said, hitting a cord in Kwenthrith. The human woman in front of her was cold and spoke too brashly. This wasn’t the Ayla she knew, the Ayla she knew was kind and careful with her words (only once had she ever seen Ayla become cross and that was back when she first arrived in Mirkwood). “I’m sorry it has to be this way for the both of you to get a rude wake-up call, but I don’t belong here and so I need to find my way home… _alone.”_

Ayla adjusted the weight of her pack and turned away from them, heading down the path that went deeper into the mountain path. To see her turn her back on them so easily, broke Kwenthrith’s heart. 

“Humans truly are the cruelest of creatures.” Kwenthrith said softly as a tear fell down her cheek.

xxxxx

(Past)

Ayla’s cellphone rang on her coffee table while she was in the middle of eating her third bowl of Cocoa Puffs cereal and watching terrible daytime soap operas. She looked at the caller ID and saw that it was Pamela calling. She set her bowl down and answered it.

“Ayla! You need to come out with us right now.” came Pamela’s voice while in the background she could hear another woman talking.

“Okay, why?” Ayla asked.

“Ayla! I miss you!” said the woman in the background.

“Who is that?” Ayla asked.

“Stacy got a head start on her bachelorette party. We’re going to Bellevue tonight, remember?” Pamela said. Of course, one of their friends was getting married right after her marriage fell apart. It was just a beautiful irony that the bride-to-be was also the woman who was helping her finalize her divorce.

“I wanna fuck a stranger!” Stacy said in the background.

“I thought we were meeting up at seven.” Ayla said, though deep down she didn’t want to leave her house (the house she once shared with her soon-to-be ex-husband).

“We are with the rest of the girls but I need your help getting Stacy sobered up before that.” Pamela said.

“Are you sure she’s drunk and not just being herself?” Ayla asked. Their friend Stacy was from their university days who was notorious for being the Sorority Pledge to have had a threesome during a frat party with people watching. Stacy was the type who craved to be the center of attention.

“Hmm, she does have that minty breath smell on her. I wonder how much mouth wash she might have had. Anyways, please come to my condo ASAP. Or do you want to stay at home all day eating cereal and watching TV?”

Ayla glanced down at her bowl of cereal, the brown balls now soggy and clumping together in the milk. With a sigh Ayla promised to meet Pamela and Stacy in an hour. In truth, Ayla really did want to just stay at home and have herself a pity party of one. Her divorce with her husband hadn’t been finalized just yet, and she was still grieving from the events that led up to the divorce. The image of his head popping up from between her half-sister’s legs with his mouth covered in her smegma was enough of a reason for her to throw the nearest thing at him (which just so happened to be his prized crystal duck that she hated). She of course missed because he had ducked away but at least the duck shattered into a thousand, satisfying pieces.

She kicked both of them out of her house, but not before punching her half-sister in the face and giving the entitled bitch a broken nose. Ayla had then gone into a rage, letting out everything as she took all of his clothes and threw them into garbage bags. Ayla then had the idea of taking her soon-to-be-ex’s clothes to the nearest thrift store, which she did with Pamela’s help.

Five jumbo-sized garbage bags later, Pamela called up their friend Stacy, who, ironically, was a lawyer who specialized in divorces. Fast-forward six weeks later, Ayla was getting away with everything in the divorce. She got the house; everything in the house, including her ex’s beloved BMW, which she vengefully plans to sell to a well known garage that sold parts. And it wasn’t stopping there; she had boxed all of his collectibles from books she saw no value in keeping to his stupid action figures that had been taking up space on the shelves for a garage sale she will have soon. It wasn’t quite as satisfying but it was a start.

Finally, she had put the house up on the market.

Since announcing her impending divorce, Ayla had been receiving harassing phone calls from Greg’s family (the worst part was that Greg’s mother and her mother were evil friends). It didn’t seem to matter to Carla (Greg’s mother) that her son was the one who cheated on her, trying to turning it around on Ayla and blame it all on her. The phone calls were so hostile and so frequent that Ayla had to ask Stacy to also help her file for a Cease and Desist Order to stop all the harassment.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, Ayla had gone to Pamela’s condo which was four blocks away from hers. Upon arrival, Ayla was met with the sight of Stacy sucking on a popsicle like a cock.

“Well, I guess she’s getting ready.” Ayla said dryly.

“She’s starting to sober up,” Pamela said, “Apparently she took an extra xanax this morning.”

“Are Becky and Amber on their way?”

“Yeah, I just texted them, they’ll meet us there tonight.”

Becky and Amber were two other friends from their university days. Though after graduating with a Bachelors degree Amber had gotten an internship to study art in Paris before accepting a job as a freelance photographer for some magazine; and Becky went on to marry some corporate CEO of some major company she forgot the name of. It was rare for all five of them to be together at the same time, and normally such a gathering was for special occasions. Weddings, anniversaries, and of course the annual New Year’s Eve night where they would sit inside a diner downtown and watch stupid drunk twenty-something year olds making the bracing 3 AM walk in skimpy dresses and no jackets and reminisce when they were twenty-somethings and stupid.

Ayla had to admit that she loved these crazy bitches.

Pamela hugged Ayla, “Thanks for coming tonight. I know you’re still dealing with a lot.”

“Anything for my girls.” Ayla said.

xxxxx

(Present) 

Three days went by and Ayla was no closer to where she wanted to be. She had travelled a great distance on foot in just three days with the mountain in the far distance now. She had forgotten how lonely it was to be travelling solo, but she had to lose the two elves, they were just slowing her down with their constant caution and worry. Ayla eventually came to the edge of another forest, this time there was no ominous feeling. There was the sound of birds chirping and insects humming. She saw deer and wild boars traipsing about without a care of her presence, often just staring at her before returning to what they were doing. It was…nice. Peaceful even. Even the air smelled sweet and earthy. Soon she came across the beginning of a beaten path which she followed, not at all afraid or worried of where it would lead her. Why should she worry? It’s not like she couldn’t come back from the dead.

It took her another day and a half before she came upon the first residents of this uncharted land. To her surprise the people were small, coming up to her waist. Their homes were inside mounds and hills with lush gardens and farm animals. The small residence would run and hide into their homes, closing the round wooden doors behind them and peeking out from their small round windows as she walked by. The further she went, the more small people she saw.

“Have I gone to Oz and not realize?” she wondered aloud.

“Who—who are you stranger?” came a quivering voice behind her. Ayla turned around and looked down at a portly man, looking up at her nervously. “W-we don’t want any trouble here. W-we’re peaceful folk h-here.”

Curious, Ayla crouched down to his level. “I don’t mean any harm. I’m a doctor, just travelling around and helping anyone who needs me.”

“A doctor?” the portly man asked, his quivering voice calming down.

“Yes. I’m Ayla.”

“I’m Baldo, Baldo Baggins.”

“Can you tell me where I am, Baldo?”

Baldo looked at her in surprise like it was obvious where she was. “Why, you’re in Hobbiton.”

“And what are you, if you don’t mind me asking.”

Again, he gave her a look like it was obvious. “Why, I’m a hobbit.”

“Hobbit?” she said curiously, it was definitely a word she never heard of, but then again, she shouldn’t be surprised at this point. She noticed that the other hobbits were starting to slowly come out, seeing that Baldo was talking to her with no fear.

“Are you simply passing through or do you have time to stay for second breakfast?” Baldo asked. Not one to turn away from an invitation for food, Ayla accepted to stay for a meal. She learned quite a deal about the hobbits, how they were peaceful folk who enjoy the simple pleasures of farming, eating, drinking and smoking. The smoking part was what peaked Ayla’s interest, since it had been years since she had a good smoke.

And man, was it good tobacco. In fact, it didn’t even smell like the tobacco she was used to. No harsh chemicals and poison mixed in the leaves, and the best part, it was the closest thing to marijuana that she had come across, maybe even better. It definitely gave her a good buzz. Ayla also learned that same evening that hobbits loved to have an excuse to party. The beer and wine they made was sweet and satisfying, their food well seasoned and delicious. It was easy to see why Hobbits were so pleasant and carefree. 

xxxxx

(Past)

“Stacy! Get over here!” Becky called. It was late, and the five ladies were waiting for their Uber to pick them up. Of course they were all drunk, but none of them were as hazed as Stacy, who was currently bent over, looking into a stranger’s car and talking to the driver. She looked like a common hooker at that moment.

“You guys!” Stacy said from across the street, looking back at her girlfriends. “You guys, he’s gonna give us a ride!”

“Stacy, you’re drunk! Our ride will be here soon!” Becky said.

“Stacy, get back here!” Amber said.

“He’s not going to—” Stacy began before mouthing; _“He’s not going to rape us!”_

“She’s mouthing the word rape.” Pamela said, clicking her tongue.

Ayla just yawned, tired and ready for the night to be over. “Right, because if that was his intention you don’t want to offend him ahead of time.”

“You guys!” Stacy called again.

Becky then crossed the street, grabbed Stacy by the hand, and walked her back across the street to the rest of the group. Stacy was complaining the entire time of how she was cold and that she needed to pee. Luckily their ride finally arrived and the five of them piled into the van. Stacy immediately fell asleep. 

“Next time the five of us get together we’ll have to put a cap on how many shots this girl can have.” said Amber. The other three agreed without contest.

xxxxx

(Present)

Her stay in the Shire had been short-lived and with regret, Ayla left to continue on her goalless journey. The Shire, as charming as it was, didn’t have what she was looking for. In fact, she didn’t know what she was looking for anymore and it depressed her. Her wandering took her west into vast grasslands and endless sky. Ayla couldn’t help but let her mind wander to Kwenthrith and the hurt that shown within her violet gaze. The one friend she made and of course, Ayla being stubborn and emotional, pushed the poor woman away. At the very least, Ayla can safely say that the time alone allowed her to process through the messy hurricane of emotions after coming back from the dead and she was now calm and in control again (mostly).

Finding a stream, Ayla dropped down to her knees and dunked her waterskin into it, filling it up before drinking a greedy mouthful. The cool, crisp water soothed her dry mouth and throat as she drank deeply, feeling the coolness fill up in her empty stomach. One good thing about her mysterious immortality was her inability to drop dead from starvation or thirst, but it didn’t stop her from feeling those needs (among other things). After drinking her fill, Ayla sat back on her heels and closed her eyes, letting herself relax. Her skin was dry and her lips were chapped, and she had no doubt that she was sunburned (what a time to worry about skin cancer). Her body ached from having to sleep on the ground every night and wished she was back in the Woodland Realm, resting in her own bed underneath a warm blanket and her body pillowed on the soft mattress. She always did have a bad habit of taking the little things for granted.

 _You just had to be stubborn and insist on leaving._ she thought bitterly, _You had to, for once, be moral and doctorly and think about helping people instead of helping yourself. Who the fuck am I becoming? Do I even want to go back to being that Ayla? Who only cared about herself and had no interest in connecting with her patients? Do I…?_

Her traitorous mind brought up the image of Legolas and his sweet smile. She had always liked children, she had even wanted to be a mother but it turned out that the universe had other plans for her. Legolas was the first to break down her walls, warming her cold heart and reminding her why she became a doctor. She dared to admit that she missed him. She also missed Thranduil and their petty squabbling (and his cock) and their evening talks over bottles of wine (and his cock) and the occasional moments of kindness he would show her (and his cock).

How long has it been now since leaving Greenwood? Damnit, she hated it when she had no sense of time. Not only was she bad at directions she was also bad at keeping track of her days.

A whoosh and a thunk snapped Ayla back to the present as her eyes popped open and she saw a black arrow sticking into the ground right in front of her. Startled, she scrambled up onto her feet and looked ahead of her. In the distance she could just make out someone riding the back of a horse. No, that’s not a horse. Holy shit!  
Panicked, Ayla turned and ran. Fuck! She was going to die—AGAIN!

And this time there was no place for her to hide. She could hear her pursuers screeching and blowing their horns, the beasts they rode snarled and howled for the chase. Ayla let out a scream when an arrow stuck into her back, making her trip and fall on her face. Adrenaline and fear motivated her to get back up and keep running. She didn’t want to die again. Dying sucked and coming back from the dead sucked even more. She screamed again when another arrow struck her, this time in the back of her left thigh. Falling again, Ayla couldn’t allow herself to get caught. She didn’t like pain and torture.

Through her tears and sobs she almost missed the sound of another horn blaring through the air. Almost missed the difference in the sound. But her vision was blurring from the tears but from something else, too. Were the arrows poisoned? She felt the ground beneath her trembling and heard the thundering sound of hooves beating into the earth. She looked up just in time to see a blur of white and gold rushing past her, kicking up air and dirt. Then nothing.

When Ayla next awoke, she was lying in a soft bed, inside a beautiful room or gold and veined marble. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and her back and left leg ached. But so far as she can tell, she was alive. Slowly she rolled onto her side, her back protested but she ignored it as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. She rubbed her eyes and blinked a few times before looking taking in her surroundings. There was an open walkway out onto the balcony, allowing air to circulate through the room. Her room was well furnished with all the comforts a room should have. Just by eyeing the craftsmanship alone Ayla knew immediately that she was in another elven domain.

She most certainly was not back in Greenwood otherwise she would be smelling the scent of fir and earth. Here, there was no definite smell of a forest, just a hint of something that was similar to burning incense. This place was definitely not Lothlorien, either, it was too bright and open here. So where the hell was she? Moving her legs over the edge of the bed, she cautiously stood up, feeling her left leg twinge a little with a sharp pain, making her wince but it didn’t hurt enough to keep her in bed. Limping a bit, she managed to walk over to the closest column, leaning heavily against it for support before edging over to the balcony and bracing her hands against the rail.

A gentle breeze blew by, caressing her warmed skin and tugging playfully at the clean chemise she was wearing. Looking out at the scenery she was blown away by how beautiful this place was, hidden away within a valley. It was so colorful and serene, making her feel almost tranquil within.

“I’m glad to see you have awoken.” came a male voice. Ayla was startled by the interruption, turning a little too quickly and making her groan in pain. “You prove to be more resilient than I had expected, your wounds had healed within minutes after the arrows had been removed.”  
Ayla turned completely to face the stranger, not at all surprised to see an elf. Though this elf had dark hair and his fair features were much sharper but beautiful all the same, as all elves were from her experience. Though there was something vaguely familiar about him, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“Have we…met? Before?” Ayla asked, still trying to remember where she had seen him, if she had seen him at all in her past. She’s lived a rather long time and so many faces have come and gone. Only elves and some dwarves stuck out.

He gave her a gentle smile as he walked up to her, his movements graceful and fluid. “You have quite the memory, I would have expected you to not remember me at all as we have only met once before. Many, many years ago.”

“When was that?”

“The war against Sauran had just been won when King Isildur’s men had found you, bandaging the wound of an orc. I had been present when King Isildur released you from the dungeons to help with the wounded. You had even tended to some of my own. Our meeting at the time was brief, but it had been enough to allow me to remember the strange woman who did not see enemy or ally, just people in need of help.”

“Well, that’s quite the glowing praise. You should be careful about putting those out there, might give me a big ego.” Ayla said, earning an amused smile. “So are you the one who saved me?”

“I am the one who tended to your injuries, yes.”

“Ah, then thank you for that.”

“You are most welcome, my lady.” he said with a slight bow. “I will send for someone to bring you something to eat.”

“Before you go, can you tell me where I am, please?”

“You are in Rivendell, my lady. And it is an honor to finally have the Lady Healer as my honored guest.”

“Rivendell?” Ayla blinked up at him and then it came back to her, where she remembered him. “Ah! El-something!”

If he was insulted he was very polite in hiding it as he gave Ayla an indulgent smile. “Yes, I am Elrond, the Ruler of Rivendell.”

“Elrond, that’s the name.” Ayla said, “And call me Ayla. Lady Healer is too formal for my taste.”

“As you wish, Ayla.” he said, her name sounding like a purr off his tongue and Ayla felt heat rising in her cheeks and it obviously didn’t go unnoticed as she caught a flash of a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Rivendell was breathtaking and Ayla took full advantage of exploring the place. Lord Elrond was generous and trusting of Ayla, allowing her access wherever she pleased in his house. Unlike a certain Elvenking who liked to kept her under lock and key. Elrond also didn’t go out of his way to annoy or elicit and argument out of her. Ayla found a certain, comfortable companionship with Elrond, healing people being their common trade and exchanged tips. Elrond taught her which plants and herbs were medicinal and which were poisonous and in turn she showed him surgical techniques should his elven magic fail. 

Before Ayla knew it, an entire season had passed and had given way to winter, and Ayla found herself constantly thinking about a certain Elvenking and his son. She wondered what they were up to, if they were doing well. For once, she longed to be with them, to return to Greenwood. It had become a home to her without her knowing it. Perhaps once the snow melted she will travel back to Greenwood just to see them again. Should she send a message to give them a heads-up?

“Lady Ayla, you have guests.” announced a servant, and before she could step aside to make way for the guests a little blonde head barreled past her.

_“Naneth!”_

Ayla didn’t have time to react or set her sketchbook down when the little body pounced on her. It was a good thing she was still sitting otherwise she would have been knocked over.

“Oh my goodness!” Ayla exclaimed, her hands flying to the small body. She was grinning before she realized it, hugging the boy back. She really did miss her little prince, making it hard to deny that she had changed as she pushed Legolas back enough to get a good look at him. “Look at you! You’re almost grown up.”

Legolas beamed at her with a boyish grin. He looked healthy and obviously had grown a lot more but he was still a boy, giving Ayla some sense of how long she had been away. _Shit, he’s starting to look more like his father._ Speaking of…Ayla looked past Legolas to see the beautiful Elvenking standing in her doorway, looking so statuesque and untouchable. A forbidden fruit that she craved like a drug addict craved for their next fix. Thranduil met her eyes and gave her an elegant nod of his head towards her. Ayla couldn’t do more than just smile at him even though what she really wanted to do was jump the man and have her wicked way with him.

She had to refrain. Think of things that aren’t sexy. Granny panties. Sad puppies. Her mother.

Legolas regaled Ayla of what she had missed, how he was learning archery and how boring his studies were. He practically gushed about how much he missed her and then told her about his pony and so forth until he tired himself out and fell asleep with his head resting on her thigh. She fondly stroked his soft hair, reminded of the times she did this for him back in Greenwood when he wouldn’t go to sleep. 

Thranduil was seated adjacent to them, watching them quietly. The past two years Legolas has done nothing but pester him as to when his _Naneth_ would return home. It pulled at his heart knowing that his son thought of Ayla as his mother, having only him as a parent and Thranduil was ashamed to admit that he failed as a father. In the short duration of her stay, Ayla had been everything to Legolas, from his healer to his caregiver, she had been the one to indulge the boy and made him happy. She had become his mother inadvertently through Thranduil’s orders of caring for him. Ayla had become important to both their lives by accident.

Or was is fate?

“He missed you a great deal.” Thranduil said.

“I missed him, too.” Ayla said, looking up at the Elvenking and felt her beat thundering with nerves in her chest. Mustering up her nerve, she gave him a cocky smirk. “I even missed you, for what it’s worth.”

A smile, however slight, graced Thranduil’s lips. His usual calculative and critical stare were gentle and, dare she think it, inviting. 

“Legolas has already asked you if you are to return to Greenwood with us, and I am curious to know your answer.” Thranduil said.

Ayla’s throat felt tight and she had to swallow to loosen it up (although that trick never worked). She wanted to go back. She really did, but she was scared. She was scared of settling down in one place. Scared of the possibility that should the opportunity of her going home to Seattle presented itself she would regret her choice of staying or leaving. Scared of the feelings she was having towards a man she feared would strip her raw and abandon her. She was afraid to commit to him. Of opening her heart to him. Of losing him.

She bit her lower lip, her anxiety showing and clueing Thranduil in that she had her reservations. He understood her hesitation, or at least, he hoped he did, considering how their personal history together had started off with a less than ideal storybook beginning. And though he tried to fight it he grew more fascinated by the woman and the world she came from, painting his grey world with color. In that short season she had made a place in his heart. She had brought him a comfort he had not felt in ages, not since before his wife had passed; but even then the comfort he had felt with his wife had felt restrained by tradition and protocol. With Ayla, the comfort she gave, regardless if she had been conscious of it or not, was limitless and unconditional. It was freely given.

With Ayla, he didn’t worry about his son being happy and well. He, himself, no longer felt alienated by his status as king. She did not treat him the way his people did, hedging around him like a venomous viper. She looked at him directly and spoke her mind without formalities. Yet she hesitated with her answer because he had not made his intentions clear.

“I want you to come back with us, Ayla. Not just for my son’s sake, but because I, too, have missed your presence.”

She released her bottom lip, now red and slightly swollen, begging for him to suck between his own teeth before devouring her mouth.

“I’ll need some time to think on it.” she finally said. Thranduil nodded when in truth he wanted to draw upon his authority and demand that she return.

“Very well, then.”


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More insight into Ayla's past and how she has changed for the better. Plus a cameo of a certain grey wizard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter touches on eating disorders and emotional abuse

Ayla sat at a table with five other girls, all of them tasked with a project to reflect “positive thinking.” At fifteen years of age, Ayla was moving up in the world of troubled teens with the angsty attitude with the mindset that the world is a terrible place and nobody understands. Staring down at her poster that was meant to inspire, Ayla just wanted to stick her fingers down her throat and vomit like there is no tomorrow.

“Ayla, what would you like to share with the group?” asked the counselor.

“This is total bullshit.” Ayla said, alerting everyone at the table to her attention. “You just go around to everyone, telling us that we’re strong and that we’ll get through this and that you understand; but you don’t. You’re not seeing things from our perspective. We obviously hate ourselves, that’s why we’re here. Society’s idea of how we should look, think, wear, act, and weigh. It’s nothing but chaotic attacks against us to the point of paralysis and the only way we feel in control is what we do to ourselves.”

The counselor frowned, “And your so-called control is what landed you here. So share with the group what your poster says to inspire everyone.”

Ayla picked up her poster, turning it around to show to the group. In cut-out letters it read: **Suck my skinny balls.**

The very next day Ayla was sitting in the back seat of her mother’s Sante Fe, being driven home in complete silence. Of course, once they were on the freeway did the monolog begin. “This is the fourth facility you got yourself kicked out of, Ayla. Fourth! We’re running out of places to go. I’m gonna have to start looking out of State to get you the help you need. I’ll have to call around for a doctor you haven’t insulted.”

Pulling up into the driveway her mother was the first to get out of the car, slamming the door shut. Her younger half-siblings and the nanny came out to the front door to meet them. She saw the looks her half-siblings gave her, probably thinking how much better off they would be if she had never come home. She didn’t care what the nanny had to say, she was just hired help.

“Go upstairs and clean up for dinner.” her mother said without even looking at her. “Olga, bring in the bags, will you?”

Going upstairs Ayla went straight to her room; everything had been left the way it was. Her bed was still made, her posters of her favorite bands and pictures of anatomy were still on the walls. She walked over to her vanity, taking off the thick jacket she looked at her reflection in the mirror, not recognizing the skinny skeleton staring back at her. She was only gone for two weeks this time, a personal record on her part. She took off her shirt and then stared at her body, her ribs showing, her shoulders, elbows and wrists were all knobby while her pale skin looked like it had been pulled too tight over her bones.

She looked away and went to her dresser, digging out a sweater to hide her body. She then went to her vanity again, sitting down on the chair and pulling open the top drawer and pulled out her journal. It wasn’t much of a journal, no words were written, just doodles and drawings, all in black ink.

“I hate this place.”

xxxxx

(Present)

A young girl coughed into her hands, her whole body shaking from it. Ayla could see even through the girl’s raggedy clothing that she was malnourished. Feeling down her spine Ayla felt every vertebrae beneath her fingers. Every single person she saw today was malnourished and sick and on the verge of dropping dead from starvation. An epidemic of famine had spread through Rohan and disease was spreading like wildfire, already having reached near the southern borders of Greenwood.

It took little convincing on her part to have Thranduil agree to let her take some of his healers to aid the humans. After a week of tending to the sick, the supply of medicine had ran out and yet more sick people came in droves. It was upsetting to leave so many people untreated. Again Ayla was lamenting about how she used to be, how she purposely distanced herself from her patients because she didn’t want to care. Seeing these poor people…it broke her heart. Especially the children, all skin and bones with terrible coughs. Years of disappointment and heartbreak certainly jaded her, making her a poor doctor until she came to Middle Earth (still unsure of how that even happened).

She had to start thinking of inventive ways to help these people. To start off, she had to deal with managing their pain. Over her many years in Middle Earth she had to relearn medicine because of the limited medicine that was available. She learned from apothecaries and herbalists about the medicines that were available. Even the elves had taught her about plants and their properties, minus the magic part of course. She noticed poppies growing like weeds in the area, pretty purple flowers with a black center. The majority of the flowers were still pods and it gave her the idea to harvest the milk from them to make opium to help her patients deal with the pain. Maybe her wasted nights of random Google searching paid off after all. 

xxxxx

(Past)

“I’ve gotten you an appointment with a doctor who has a very successful reputation of rehabilitating his patients with problems like yours.” said her mother while the family were sitting at the dining table for dinner. “This is the last doctor in the state we haven’t seen yet, so don’t mess this up and get your act together.”

Ayla ignored her mother while she pushed her food around on her plate, separating the steamed vegetables into groups and cutting her steak into exact size. If her mother thought she could control her life, she at least could control what goes into her body. 

“Ayla, do you hear me?” Her half-siblings looked at her, waiting for the show to begin while Ayla continued to hold onto what little control of her world she had. “Ayla!”

“Ayla, answer your mother,” said her step-father.

“May I be excused?” Ayla asked, finally looking up from her organized plate.

“You’re going to see this doctor and you’re going to get over this ridiculous teenage rebellion.” her mother said.

Ayla just stood up and left the dinner table to go up to her room. Her dinner uneaten. After returning to her room Ayla felt compelled to exercise and immediately began to do sit-ups. She did this twice a day, once in the morning and once at night before bed. Once she did a hundred sit-ups she’ll go and stand in front of the mirror to look at herself, seeing what she was doing to herself gave her a feeling of satisfaction, because it was her body and she had control of her body.

Then there was the last ritual of the day, every night, before going to bed, she would circle her fingers around her upper arm, measuring how close she could bring her middle finger to her thumb. Tonight, they still didn’t touch. By morning, after doing her ritual of sit-ups and then looking at herself in the mirror, she got ready for the day and went downstairs to make her usual breakfast—a large big gulp sized cup of ice filled to the top and diet cola. Of course this morning was different, her step-father was waiting for her and so her morning routine was interrupted as she was taken to meet this so-called great doctor.

“I had to ask your father to pull in this favor to get you in to see this doctor.” he said.

“Whatever.” Ayla said, staring out the car window. “It’s not like you care, anyhow.”

xxxxx

(Present)

An elderly man choked and coughed from the warm liquid that had been poured into his dry mouth as his wife spoon fed him broth. The sound alone made Ayla cringe as she walked by, carrying a bucket of dirty rags that will need to be washed and then boiled for sterilization. The elves of Lorien had been sent to help aid the camp of sick humans. Ayla was grateful for the help that was brought as more medicine was dispensed (and she was able to put the idea of making opium painkillers on the backburner). Daily more people made their way to the camp as word had spread that the elves were healing the sick only to be surprised that it was a human woman who was healing the people while the elves assisted.

Ayla saw more than just cases of pneumonia and hunger, she was seeing severe infection and obvious growths of malignant nature. With limited resources and no access to the modern medicine she was trained with she had to rely on Kwenthrith and the other elven healers who had a more extensive knowledge of herbal medicine. She remembered some of what Elrond had taught about which herbs were for what but it came down to Kwenthrith whose knowledge and expertise shone brightly, teaching Ayla the proper preparations (again she thought of the poppies).

In turn Ayla showed the elves and some of the humans who stayed to help how to detect illness. She even showed them simple field medicine that her father had taught her when he was in the army, making splints out of everyday objects and emergency slings from rags. She explained the importance of a clean area, for example how one bowl of cleaning water could not be shared between multiple people because of cross-contamination. She also explained that it was just as important to clean your own hands as much as possible in between patients to avoid further infection for the patient and for themselves. With those basic lessons in place Ayla began to see less and less new faces arriving in the coming weeks.

The elves of Lorien had returned to their woods shortly before a message arrived from Greenwood from the Elvenking. It had been a short message, which didn’t come as a surprise to Ayla. The message had read that she and his healers return as word had reached him that the epidemic has reached its end and so on and so forth.

“What does the message say?” Kwenthrith asked as she rinsed her hands in a fresh bowl of water.

“It basically says: you’re done, come home. Typical.” Ayla said with an annoyed click of her tongue. The doctor didn’t miss the light giggle from the elf as she dried her hands on cloth.

“It sounds to me that the King misses you and is impatient for your return.” Kwenthrith said, taking the written missive from Ayla, noticing there was a second page that had been missed and her smile reached her violet eyes as she handed it to Ayla. “It would also appear that our prince misses his _naneth.”_

Ayla’s face immediately softened into a warm smile, seeing the second page was from Legolas who wrote in a semi-neat hand that he was waiting impatiently for her to return home. Ayla snickered, reading on about Legolas complaining about his father being in a sour mood since she left and that her coming back will make his father feel better. Ayla folded the letter and walked towards her tent that had served as her temporary home, sharing the cramped space with Kwenthrith for the past two months. She searched for a piece of parchment and a quill and ink, finding a quill and an empty ink bottle but no parchment.

“Oh well,” she shrugged, going back out and finding the messenger had followed her. “Please inform Lord Thranduil and Prince Legolas that I will return once the last of my patients are well enough to return to their homes.”

The messenger shifted on his feet. “Lord Thranduil had ordered that if you were to say that then I must bring you back by force.”

A burst of laughter escaped Ayla, taking her time to laugh it out before she had calmed down enough and patted the messenger on the shoulder. “I’m not leaving these people. I am their doctor and it is my duty to see them get better.”

“But my Lady, Lord Thranduil was clear in his order of you returning to Greenwood.” said the messenger.

Ayla just shook her head, patting his shoulder once more before moving past him to make her rounds to the remaining people. Kwenthrith took her place before the messenger.

“Please send Lord Thranduil the message Lady Ayla has passed to you; adding that if he wishes for her return sooner then he must come for her himself.” Kwenthrith said with a wry smile.

xxxxx

(Past)

“If you don’t start gaining weight I’ll have to put in the order to tube you.” said Dr. Longbow, the doctor who was overseeing Ayla’s rehabilitation. “Since you’ve joined this program you’ve _lost_ three pounds.”

Ayla stared out the window of Dr. Longbow’s office, willing to look at anything else but the abnormally gorgeous doctor with piercing blue eyes that felt like they could look into her soul. When Ayla first met him, she didn’t believe that he was a doctor because he was too beautiful to be anything but a model or something flashy like that. It wasn’t until he started talking did she change her mind and was convinced that he must be some kind of illusion because even the sound of his voice was angelic.

“Ayla, this is serious. If you’re not committed to getting well then I’ll have no choice but to expel you from my program. I can’t tell you what to do, I can only give you the necessary tools to help you.” he said, looking at Ayla. “I’ve gone over your record; kicked out of four institutions, three hospitalizations, the third of which was from pneumonia due to your immune system being so weak. I’m serious, this is your last chance. The next time you get sick it just might kill you.”

Ayla then finally turned to look at him. “That’s it? Follow your program or die? Aren’t you supposed to be reassuring me and telling me to keep trying?”

“No. It’s clear to me that you believe that you have this disease under control but in truth it’s the opposite. You’re letting yourself waste away and you don’t care. You expect me to tell you what you want to hear? You want me to reassure you? What good will those words do if you just don’t give a damn about yourself?”

There was a minute of silence before Ayla got up and stormed out.

xxxxx

(Present)

A familiar grey figure approached Ayla while she sat in one of the tents, wrapping an ulcerated leg that was improving in clean dressing. Arlen, who protected Ayla, stepped in front of the grey stranger, blocking his path.

“I have come to speak to your Lady Healer.” the stranger began, his voice wizened and sound.

“And what do you wish to speak to our Lady about?” Arlen demanded.

“It’s all right, Arlen, let him through.” Ayla said as she finished wrapping the leg and picked up the bowl of dirty water and bandages. She turned around and her lips pursed at the sight of the grey stranger. “If you’re sick then you’ve come to the right place, if not you can fuck off.”

The grey wizard chuckled in amusement, always finding the healer to be interesting and sharp tongued. “My greetings to you, Lady Healer.”

“Gandalf,” Ayla said in acknowledgement before her pursed lips changed into a smile. “It’s been awhile, what brings you to these neck of the woods?” she asked as she walked past him, carrying the bowl of dirty water and rags. Gandalf walked alongside her.

“I was merely passing through, having heard stories of a healer tending to the sick with elves in her employ. It was such a curious tale that I had to see for myself.” Gandalf said.

Ayla dropped the dirty rags into a bucket and dumped the dirty water into a dugout hole meant for the waste. “Well? Curiosity satisfied?” she asked, setting the bowl into another bucket to be washed later before rinsing her hands with clean water and drying them on her apron.

“Yes, I would say so.” Gandalf said, “I am most pleased to see you are doing well since our last meeting.”

Ayla smiled at him. She was among the few women in his long life to ever speak clearly of their opinions, regardless of who was on the receiving end. Gandalf mused upon his first encounter with the healer more than a hundred years ago, happening upon her south of Gondor, in a village that had been ransacked by rogues. She was the only one tending to the wounded, which mostly consisted of women and children and a handful of men. The rest of the villagers were dead.

He found her interesting because she took no payment in the form of coins, just food and supplies, enough for her to carry on her back. Her techniques for healing were of skills he had never seen before. She washed the wounds clean before dressing them, giving specific instructions to each individual so that their injuries would heal properly. He had learned quite a lot from just observing quietly. Gandalf would then cross paths with Ayla several more times throughout the decades, and each time his intrigue grew for she never aged.

It was as if she was immune to Time itself.

Gandalf suspected that Ayla was one of the Ancients, returned to Middle Earth to heal those who are in great need. But such a musing was for another time.

xxxxx

(Past)

Ayla laid in the hospital bed, a feeding tube going through her nose and down into her stomach. The bag of the liquid nutrients had been changed for the third time that day. After walking out of the rehab program, Ayla had returned home only to collapse two days later in the shower where her siblings’ nanny had found her and called for an ambulance. Ayla was put on suicide watch and was held for the standard 72 hour psychiatric evaluation. 

But she didn’t care.

No one but the doctors and nurses came to see her. Her own mother didn’t bother to show up, her step-father and the two spawn half-siblings didn’t bother either. Her father called, worried about her health, saying he would get on the next plane to see her but Ayla told him not to bother. In truth, she didn’t want him to see her like this. She didn’t want the one parent she actually cared about to feel guilty or responsible for her condition. Ayla was very aware of what she was doing to herself, and she was very aware that she almost died. Out of boredom she had read her own medical charts and saw that her initial weight when she was admitted was at 103lbs. A dangerous low for someone her height and age, knowing that she should be at most 30-40 pounds heavier to be healthy.

Being in the hospital was boring, and walking around wasn’t much of an option unless she wanted to experience severe vertigo and pass out in the hallway. She was resigned to staying in bed, bored out of her mind, and pretending to not notice the nurses coming in. After day five in the hospital Dr. Longbow came to visit, carrying a parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied off with twine.

How embarrassing. The fifth person she wanted to see the least had come to visit her unannounced.

“Well, this is definitely an I-told-you-so scenario but then that would be bragging.” he said in a soothing, hypnotic voice.

Ayla rolled her eyes. “You come here to gloat? That’s not very professional of you, Doctor.”

He handed her the parcel, placing it on her lap. “I figure you might be bored in this place.” he said as he pulled up a chair by her bed. Ayla looked down at the parcel before opening it, untying the twine and pulling back the brown paper to reveal a sketch book with a box of pencils. “Your roommate back at the house mentioned you liked to draw.”

“Thanks,” Ayla said, not looking up at him. As thoughtful as the gift was, Ayla was too distracted with how thin and boney her hands were.

“You have the choice of coming back and starting over with the program. I want you to get better, Ayla.” he said.

“Did the nurses tell you that you’re my first visitor since I was admitted?”

“No, they didn’t. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Did you speak to my mom?”

“Sort of, your mother actually called me, complaining how I charged too much for doing nothing.”

Ayla snorted, finding it typical of her mother to complain and run her mouth. “Sounds just like her.”

“Maybe now is a good time to tell me how you became like this.” Dr. Longbow said as he pulled up a chair next to her bed and sat down, facing her with his hands folded in his lap.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No, because I don’t know what started this process.”

Ayla leaned back against her pillows, still not looking at her doctor. In fact, she couldn’t. She knew why she started down this road of self-destruction, and the root cause was very close to home. She had a list of things and people to blame, but those were all excuses. In truth… “In truth, I think I just stopped caring.”

“Stopped caring about what?”

She shrugged her bony shoulders. “It had started off as a simple diet plan. Mom kept talking about how she wanted to do a family portrait and told me and Charlotte to lose a little weight because she had already bought our dresses for the planned portrait; and she purposely bought them a size smaller than our normal size. So I cut my portions in half, I cut out snacks and desserts and sugary drinks, I even started doing some cardio. And Charlotte did nothing. I lost the needed weight to fit into my dress, Charlotte didn’t and mom gave my dress to her and…” her voice began to break as she remembered. “I realized then, that my own mother did it on purpose.” She blinked away the tears. “I did what my mom asked, because I wanted to be included and my efforts went ignored.”

Ayla finally broke down in tears, the root of her illness revealed. Dr. Longbow’s heart went out to her as he moved to sit on the bed next to her and pulled her into his chest to comfort her. His hands feeling how frail and sick she really was. And it all stemmed from being rejected by her mother. It was clear that being excluded from the family portrait was the final straw and it triggered a need in Ayla to take back her control. With the mindset that she wasn’t good enough to be a part of her mother’s new family was when the eating disorder took an iron hold.

“Ayla, come back to the house. I promise you that if you embrace the program, then you will get better. Not only physically, but mentally and emotionally. What do you say? Will you come back?”

xxxxx

(Present)

“You need to eat, Meckel.” Ayla said, holding the spoon of soup to the man’s lips. Meckel had come to Ayla’s camp with his wife and elderly mother. All of them had been very sick, and his wife had also been very pregnant, but had unfortunately died three days later. Ayla had to do an emergency cesarean on the deceased wife, who had died while Ayla had been trying to treat her with medicine. Kwenthrith had assisted her to the best of her capability, nearly getting sick when Ayla had cut through the skin, fat, and muscle to get to the uterus and cut it open to pull out the baby girl inside who was thankfully still alive.

The next day Meckel’s mother passed. Ayla understood the shock of losing his family, but she couldn’t give up and allow Meckel to waste away from grief, not when he still had his daughter to raise. A daughter who survived the first twenty-four hours after Ayla’s crude emergency surgery. Setting the spoon back in the bowl Ayla felt that it was time for some real talk with her patient. She put the bowl down and reached out to his face, turning it to look at her.

“Now you listen to me: You still have a lot to live for. You haven’t lost everything; you still have your baby. Your daughter. Don’t abandon her because you’re not man enough to keep living.” Ayla said, “Don’t let your wife and mother’s death go in vain and blame yourself or whoever for it because it’s a waste of your time and energy.” He finally looked at her, his dark eyes focusing on her. “Your daughter is alive and she needs you, but you’re no good to her if you don’t eat and get better.”

After a long moment of silence Meckel finally nodded his head. Ayla reached down for the soup and handed him the bowl, watching him take a few bites and swallowing the soup before she went to check on the last few patients she had left in the camp. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Thranduil, sitting on the back of his great elk, looking so fairy tale regal and flanked by his elven guards. Not to mention it gave her an idea that she should suggest to him in private of fucking in the saddle. Focus. Push all dirty thoughts down as much as possible.

She approached him, the great elk lowering his massive head for Ayla to stroke its soft muzzle, recognizing her scent. Ayla petted the beautiful beast as she looked up at Thranduil and raised an eyebrow.

“I’m guessing you received my message.” she said.

“Yes, and as you have stated in your message I have come for you personally.” he replied dryly.

“What? I never said…ugh, _Kwen.”_ Ayla sighed, having no energy to argue as she plotted on how to get back at the sneaky elf maiden. “I suppose you want to leave now?”

“Obviously.” Thranduil said slowly, not needing to put into words that he had grown impatient with her. Ayla just shook her head and rolled her eyes.

“My Lord. My Lady.” Kwenthrith said, approaching them both. “Allow me to finish the work that has been done here. There are only a handful left and all of them are almost well enough to leave.”

“I will allow it.” Thranduil said.

Ayla turned to Kwenthrith, ready to protest but Kwenthrith spoke first. “It will be fine. You have done enough. Please, it is now your turn to rest.”

With a heavy sigh Ayla nodded her head. “All right, I guess I can hand over the reins to you.” With a quick goodbye and last minute instructions Ayla left with the Elvenking and his entourage of guards, riding with Thranduil on the back of his great elk.

With her back pressed against Thranduil’s armored chest and her head resting under his chin, Ayla drifted off to sleep. She was more tired than she had thought and now that she wasn’t keeping busy it all caught up to her in minutes. Thranduil didn’t disturb her, letting her rest, knowing she needed it. The reports he received from Kwenthrith and Arlen about the progress with the sick humans all reported of Ayla working tirelessly at all hours. Two months of little rest and constant working would exhaust anyone, even him. He kissed the top of her head, grateful that she remained hale after being around so many ill people.

xxxxx

From where Thranduil lounged upon the chase, one knee bent while he reclined against the throw pillows, he watched Ayla as she slept soundly in their bed. He could see the back of Legolas’ golden head peeking out from the blankets, the boy obviously having slipped in during the night to sleep beside his beloved _naneth._

It had been a nice surprise when Thranduil awoke, finding his son snuggled up against Ayla beneath the blankets (though his son quite possible had little choice in which side to sleep on considering Thranduil had been pressed tightly against Ayla). Seeing the two of them sleeping so peacefully together like that, it warmed his heart and that warmth spread to the rest of him, filling him with contentment and peace. When he learned that Ayla had found her way to Rivendell a year ago the news had come at the most opportune time as he had been preparing to travel there in the coming month for _Tarnin Austa._ It was only his last minute change of plans to bring Legolas along that felt as if he had sealed the promise of bringing Ayla home.

The Woodland Realm of Greenwood was her home, which brokered no argument (because he wouldn’t hear it). It took her no more than that night to give him her reply the next morning, agreeing that she would return to Greenwood with him and Legolas and had laid down a few conditions. The first of which was that she was not under his employ as Legolas’ appointed caregiver. The second was to allow her to continue her practice as doctor, which meant she was free to come and go when her skills were needed. The third condition was that they start over in their relationship, wanting to make a fresh start between them. Her conditions were fair, to say the least, though he struggled with the second. 

Now, a year later, he and Ayla have established a good friendship and she had become his confidant in many matters. They were also lovers, having continued that part of their relationship almost immediately as the heat between them had never cooled down. Only growing hotter. She consumed his heart and mind and he knew this feeling without question, he just wondered if she felt the same. He knew she loved Legolas, neither of them correcting the boy about calling her _naneth,_ and had the feeling she actually liked being addressed as such. 

Ayla stirred from her sleep, stretching under the blankets before her eyes blinked open. Thranduil watched how a smile appeared on her face as she registered that Legolas was sleeping in bed with her, kissing his head before carefully sitting up. Her hair stuck out at odd angles and her eyes were still droopy with sleep. The light chemise she wore to bed and slipped off one shoulder of which she neglected to correct, modesty clearly the furthest from her mind after waking up.

She woke up beautifully.

Just as carefully as when she sat up she slipped out of bed without disturbing the little prince, and when she stood Thranduil felt immediate heat ignite low in his belly at the sight of her. What he had mistook as a chemise had been one of his silk shirts that reached down to her upper thighs, just barely covering the curve of her derriere. He cleared his throat, announcing his presence as her head snapped up towards his direction. 

“Oh, good morning.” she whispered, still mindful of Legolas asleep in her bed as she walked up to him.

“Indeed it is.” he replied, watching her like a predator as he remained where he was. When she was right next to him his hands were immediately stroking up her bare legs. Bending over, Ayla placed a quick kiss to his lips before walking away from his touch to freshen up. His eyes following her.

It had been less than a month since Thranduil retrieved Ayla back from the camp of sick humans, and every night since he had her sleeping in his bed. In his embrace. And the Elvenking was determined to keep it that way hence forth.

xxxxx

Ayla stifled another yawn, unable to pinpoint the source of why she was feeling so tired lately. She wasn’t coming down with anything aside from her occasional seasonal allergy sneezes but that time of the year had already passed. She had already taken an unexpected nap and figured she would be fine for the rest of the day but instead she was still drowsy and had low energy. She figured it would probably be a good idea to have Kwenthrith examine her, maybe she was coming down with something after all. Of course, her being as stubborn as she was, Ayla put it off indefinitely until she noticed her breasts, and especially her nipples were feeling extremely tender. They haven’t felt that way since she had been pregnant back when she was still married to that backstabbing bastard.

Oh fuck.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayla tells Thranduil about her pregnancy and then reveals that this was not her first time getting pregnant. Meanwhile evil grows in the shadow and prepare to make a move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: still birth, cheating, and emotional trauma

Pamela rushed into the emergency room, finding Ayla sitting out in the hallway, pale and despondent. Stacy was sitting next to her with her arm around her shoulders. Ayla was wearing a blue dress with a large and obvious blood stain on her lap. She had accepted Stacy’s invitation to a day of shopping, going into little boutiques and getting ideas for how to decorate the nursery when Ayla was overcome with a sharp pain in her abdomen. She felt warm liquid running down her legs and when she looked down it was to her horror to see blood pooling at her feet. Stacy took her to the nearest hospital and while the doctors were attending to Ayla she had called Pamela in a panic.

_“Ayla’s in trouble!”_ Stacy had said over the phone. _“Something’s wrong with her baby!”_

That was enough for Pamela to drop everything and rush out to meet them. When she approached them Pamela dropped down to her knees in front of Ayla, seeing her eyes were red and puffy from crying.

“What did the doctors say? Is everything all right?” Pamela asked, already touching Ayla’s face and checking her over with a critical eye. “Ayla, honey, please speak to me. What’s happened?”

Ayla couldn’t say it, just breaking down into a new fit of sobs as she leaned forward and cried into Pamela’s shoulder. Stacy had silent tears falling down her face as she rubbed Ayla’s back. Ayla’s tears were answer enough for Pamela as she hugged her best friend, not knowing what else to do to comfort her. It didn’t go unnoticed that Ayla’s husband wasn’t around.

xxxxx

(Present)

Kwenthrith was able to confirm Ayla’s suspicions that she was in fact pregnant, and Ayla was sitting quietly, trying her hardest not to have a panic attack. Kwenthrith was quite understanding of Ayla’s fear and reservations, having been told about her previous pregnancies and how they all ended with miscarriages. It was clear that Ayla feared the same thing will happen again, convinced that she was not meant to ever have children. Kwenthrith reached over and placed her hand reassuringly on Ayla’s, feeling that they have gone cold. “Ayla, perhaps this is a sign of a new beginning for you. You told me how unhappy you were in your previous relationship, you cannot make the same claim with Lord Thranduil, could you?”

“No…you’re right. It’s just…” Ayla let out a sigh, not knowing what to do or feel. “What if it happens again? What if my body just can’t carry a baby to full term? What if I’m just broken?”

“You are not broken, Ayla. Lord Thranduil clearly loves you deeply, and will continue to feel that way no matter what.”

Ayla looked at Kwenthrith, her throat tight with emotion. The pessimist in her wanted to argue that a miscarriage always changes the dynamic of every relationship. But maybe this time will be different. She could only hold onto the hope of that being true. Now she just needs to tell Thranduil the news. 

xxxxx

Ayla had all day to prepare herself to tell Thranduil the news and waited until dinner to tell him. He had been surprisingly busy today. She had heard that a dwarven envoy had arrived today from Erebor. As their dinner was served Ayla covered the top of her wine glass with her hand to prevent the servant from pouring her wine.

“Just water for me, thank you.” Ayla said.

“Are you feeling unwell?” Thranduil asked, “I have noticed that you have been sleeping more these past few weeks.”

Ayla nodded her head once, looking at him with a reassuring smile. “I have been pretty tired, but it’s not because I’m sick. I actually found out today why I’ve been so exhausted and a little moody. It’s because, um…well…” Fuck, why was this always so hard? “It’s because…” Just breathes. “I’m pregnant.”

Ayla felt anxiety rising up in her, making her stomach churn uncomfortably as she watched Thranduil stare at her with a blank expression. He then stood and went to her side, pulling her chair back before dropping down to his knees in front of her and placing a hand on her lower abdomen. Ayla’s heart was racing in her chest as she placed both her hands over his on her stomach, still waiting for him to speak.

_“Mui mel,”_ he spoke, his voice soft as he looked up at Ayla with a smile that made her melt. He was more beautiful when he smiled like that, showing minor creases around his eyes and mouth, evidence that he used to smile and laugh a lot. “This is wonderful news.”

She felt tears sting her eyes as she let out a relieved laugh and bent forward to kiss him. Her heart felt like it was going to burst with happiness.

“I love you.” she said, finally saying it, fully opening her heart to him.

“And I you, _mui mel._ My heart.” he said, kissing her again.

xxxxx

(Past)

Ayla was lying on her side, facing away from the door in her hospital room. An I.V. was hooked up, feeding her fluids and antibiotics after going through delivering her stillborn. She lost another baby. Two miscarriages and now a stillbirth, and this one hurt the most because she had managed to reach her second trimester and had only been a week away from find out the gender at her next doctor’s appointment. She wanted to be a mother; she was ready to be a mother. She would have given all her love to her baby and avoided all the mistakes that her own mother had done to her. 

She touched her belly, still round but now empty of life. In a few weeks it will shrink down and be as if there hadn’t been a baby. It had been twelve hours now since it happened and her husband was still absent from her side. Pamela and Stacy had both called Greg and both left voice mails. Ayla had called and texted her husband multiple times before and after her surgery and still she hadn’t heard from him. In an act of desperation Ayla picked up her phone and called the last person she wanted to speak to: her mother.

It rang a few times before her mother picked up.

_“Hello?”_ came a groggy voice that was all too familiar.

She hesitated before speaking. “Hi mom.” Ayla said, her voice scratchy from crying.

_“Ayla? Have you any idea what time it is?”_

“I know, I’m sorry to wake you but I just…I just wanted to tell you…”

_“What’s the matter? Did something happen?”_

Ayla immediately broke down, sobbing and trying to get a hold of herself. “I lost the baby!” she said between sobs.

_“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. And where is your husband?”_

“I don’t know. He’s not returning my calls or texts.” Ayla sniffed, feeling raw and vulnerable and very alone.

_“He’s going to be so disappointed to know you lost another baby.”_ A coldness suddenly settled over Ayla at those words, her tears halting as anger began to well up inside her. _“Oh, Ayla, as terrible as this is you should have taken better care of yourself. You’re a doctor; you should know all of this.”_

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You’re actually blaming me for this?”

_“Well it’s the woman’s job to make sure she can have a healthy baby and let’s face it, sweetheart, you have rather bad habits. I’m surprised Greg hasn’t taken my advice on managing your schedule to make sure this didn’t happen again, especially after the last two miscarriages.”_

“Unbelievable. I can’t believe I even called you hoping that you would, for once, be a mother and not this condescending bitch.”

_“I am being a mother, Ayla. It’s my duty to tell you what you’re doing wrong so that you will correct it. It’s not my fault that you have always been so willful and spiteful towards me.”_

“Goodbye, mother.” Ayla then hung up. She wanted to call Stella, her step-mother, but Stella had died two years prior from a horseback riding accident. She didn’t want to bother Pam or Stacy, both had been with her for hours and after she gave birth to her stillborn she told them to go home. She couldn’t bare to look at them and only see pity. Becky and Amber had obviously been told of what happened because she had received texts from them both with their heartfelt condolences. But the one person she needed the most was her husband Greg.

Where was he? Was he all right? Why wasn’t he replying back to her?

Did he even care?

She tried calling him again, the phone ringing until it reached his voicemail. “Greg, call me back. It’s important.” she said before hanging up. 

xxxxx

After another check by the doctor, Ayla was released from the hospital. Pamela picked her up from the hospital and drove her home since Greg failed to answer his phone again. The car ride was silent, the mood still somber. Once they were at her house Pamela walked Ayla to the door, wanting to make sure Ayla was settled before leaving her side again. When they entered they both paused when they heard loud moaning coming from further in the house.

Both women followed the sound to the kitchen and there, on the breakfast table, was Ayla’s half-sister, naked on the table, lying on her back with her legs spread open. And between her legs was her husband, fucking her with his mouth.

“Well, now we know why he wasn’t answering his phone.” Pamela said, surprising the lovers. Charlotte screamed in surprise, sitting up quickly and trying to cover herself with her hands while Greg looked stunned and at a loss for words as panic was written all over his face.

Ayla was furious, grabbing the nearest item (a crystal duck) and threw it as hard as she could at Greg’s head. He ducked out of the way and the crystal duck smashed against the wall behind him. Charlotte screamed again, running along the wall and cowering in the corner.

“Baby! I’m sorry!” Greg began.

“You cheating asshole!” Ayla screamed, “You were home this whole time while I was in the hospital?!”

“What? Why were you in the hospital?” Greg asked, “Did something happen to the baby?”

“Of course something happened! If you had been a good husband and answered your fucking phone you would have known that our baby died!” Ayla screamed, approaching Greg only to slap him across the face and beat his chest in fury. “But you were here! Fucking my sister of all people! On our table!”

“Ayla, wait—”

Ayla stop!” came Charlotte’s voice from behind, grabbing one of Ayla’s arms to try and help Greg, only for Ayla to turn swiftly around and punch Charlotte right in the nose, feeling a crunch and seeing blood gush from her nose.

“No! Get out! GET OUT! Both of you get out of my house! I never want to see you again! You’re dead to me! GET OUT!” she screamed before clutching her stomach in pain.

“Babe, are you okay?” Greg asked, reaching out for her but Pamela had rushed forward and shoved him back.

“You heard her! Get out, pig! Both of you!” Pamela yelled as she wrapped her arms around Ayla’s shoulders and helped her up.

“I’m not leaving! This is my house, too!” Greg said firmly.

“Get out!” Ayla screeched before cringing in pain again and letting out a broken hearted sob. “Just leave.”

xxxxx

(Present)

“After that I had the locks to my house changed. My divorce was quick, thanks to Stacy, and I never saw them again.” Ayla said, finishing her traumatic tale of her last pregnancy and how her marriage really ended. “The whole ordeal left me pretty scarred. I had trust issues and I just stopped caring about myself and other people.”

Thranduil had sat and listened quietly, holding her hand in his. “You have suffered enough, I believe.” he said, bring her hand up to his lips and kissed the smooth skin. He looked into her brown eyes, seeing them glassy from the painful memory. “You have my word, _mui mel,_ that I will stand by you no matter what. Your fears are valid but unlike your ex-husband, I have no such need to stray to another when I have you.”

Ayla let out a short laugh and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad to hear it, especially since my aim has gotten better with throwing miscellaneous objects.”

Thranduil chuckled and kissed the top of her head.

“We should tell Legolas, too.” Ayla said.

“We will, but not right now.” Thranduil said as he turned on the sofa they were sitting on and pulled Ayla up. She smiled, swinging one leg over his lap to straddle him. “Right now I wish to give you much needed praise.”

Giggling, Ayla caressed the sides of his face with her hands and kissed him on his perfect lips. “I like that idea.”

Thranduil gripped her hips, pulling her closer to him as he claimed her lips with his. Ayla wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. It felt almost too good to be true. To be so deeply in love and to be loved in return with equal capacity. To be loved by someone who is so beautiful and (let’s be honest) out of her league. Two completely different people who had quite a lot in common, to list a few: they’re both stubborn, often selfish, and straight forward.

She had to wonder if it was fate.

xxxxx

When they told Legolas the news that he will soon have a sibling, he was overjoyed by it. Already resting his cheek against Ayla’s stomach and telling his sibling all the things he will teach them. It was cute, and Ayla enjoyed the excitement that lit Legolas’ eyes. It was hard not to feel excited, too, thinking how this time might be different. This time she might actually have a turn of birthing life in this new world. Maybe this was all meant to be.

This time it will be different.

This time she is truly happy.

xxxxx

Walking through the market street in Dale, Ayla was standing in front of a stall that sold herbs that grew in remote parts of Middle Earth. She recognized many of them for their medicinal purposes, smelling some of the dried herbs, strangely finding the smells enticing instead of too pungent or sharp. Her pregnancy made her sensitive to many smells, but what was strange was that she craved the medicinal smell, especially the smell of menthol. She also craved peppermint candies but she could live without it. 

Placing a few bushels of herbs she would need into her basket she reached for her coin purse to pay the merchant.

“For you, Lady Healer, you may have for free.” said the merchant.

“That’s very kind of you, but I can’t take these things without paying for them.” Ayla said, handing the coin to the merchant. “Besides, I know you must have gone through a lot to get some of these herbs.”

“Thank you, my Lady, you are most generous.”

Ayla continued through the market, her elven guards a familiar sight for the people of Dale, letting the glorious city know that their Mother of Mercy was present. A House of Healing had been built in the city near its center where the sick and injured were looked after. Ayla visited as often as she could, teaching aspiring healers the essential basics that were key to keeping their patients healthy. A visit from the Mother of Mercy meant a horde of people will fill the rooms and halls of the House of Healing with people coming in for mundane ailments that were nothing.

“My Lady, shall we escort you out of the city?” asked her guard.

“No, this is just going to take awhile.” Ayla said with a sigh as she ascended the steps, squeezing past the throng of waiting patients. Pregnancy fatigued her faster than usual, and because of her precious little passenger Thranduil had been resistant in letting her leave the Woodland Realm. Letting him hand-pick the guards had been their compromise so long as Ayla took no longer than three days to return. A tight time-frame when it took nearly half a day to and from Dale, not to mention she had plans to visit Erebor and check in on Valka and see how her pregnancy was faring. She should be about ready to pop. Plus Valka was one of Ayla’s few female friends she had.

After a few hours of attending to patients Ayla was beginning to get too tired to focus and could only think about lying down and falling asleep. She will have to plan a visit to Erebor another time. After a night of rest Ayla journeyed back to Greenwood with her guards, a little disappointed that she didn’t get to do all the things she wanted to do but when her lover was stubborn and would more than likely raze the city if she didn’t keep her end of their compromise.

xxxxx

Travelling the familiar path Ayla had a sudden eerie feeling come over her. Sure, the woods had its eerie charm of limited sunlight and trees that were so close together that it felt claustrophobic, but there was something else. It was far too quiet. It was obvious that her guards had noticed the same thing, closing ranks as to keep her covered from all angles. Subconsciously Ayla touched her lower belly, trying to find comfort in the slight swell that had began to grow there. She was currently out of danger of a miscarriage, but it still didn’t quell the fear of having another stillbirth. 

She was lost in her musings and worry when suddenly an arrow flew past her head and buried itself into the guard behind her. Suddenly everything was thrown into a chaotic vortex as orcs ambushed them. One of her guards blew their horn to send out a warning signal before being cut down by an orc. Flooded with fear, Ayla turned to flee but was caught before she could even attempt it. 

She let out a scream.

xxxxx

(Past)

Ayla didn’t allow herself to mope around, needing a distraction to keep busy. It was her first years as a practicing physician and already she was spiraling out of control. Was this her mid-life crisis? She had lost so much already; her father, her step-mother, two miscarriages and stillborn, in the process of a divorce, and had severed all ties to her remaining family. It was leading her down a dark path of self-loathing. She got married too fast to a cheating bastard. They got started too soon on a family that caused a lot of stress and pressure when they had no money (to be correct Ayla had no money whereas Greg came from a family with money). She was just getting started in a career that required all of her attention.

Her performance was suffering for it.

It was then that she vowed to never let herself open up again. The pain wasn’t worth it. She became withdrawn and more clinical with her patients, to the point where she was almost robotic and cold. She had been scolded multiple times by senior residents for her lack of empathy. She could easily have played the victim card, explain to them her woes and gain sympathy from her peers, but why bother? She didn’t want pity. She just wanted to be numb.

The pain of her loss eventually faded with time, and after completing her surgical residency Ayla had become a full-fledged surgeon. She never got over her pain, simply burying it deep down, and simply went on with her life, pretending like everything was okay. Eventually it became real, but some nights Ayla would lie awake at night and think about how unlucky she was.

xxxxx

(Present)

Thranduil rode out immediately with his army, fully clad in battle armor and heading straight for Dol Guldor. Upon being told that Ayla’s company had been attacked by orcs Thranduil sent out scouts to find their location and to find Ayla. It had been agony for him, waiting for word as to her and her captors’ whereabouts, his mind reeling with horrible scenarios playing over and over in his head. He worried for Ayla and their child’s safety, his only concern was finding them unharmed. Once he learned where she had been taken he ordered his army to march onto the dark fortress.

_I am on my way, Ayla!_

xxxxx

Locked in a cage, Ayla sat curled up against the furthest bars. The orcs had killed all her guards and had taken her to Dol Guldor. They were definitely planning something and whatever it was they obviously wanted her for a reason, and that terrified her. She needed to escape, she was not going to let anything happen to her baby. She will see Thranduil and Legolas again. She will get out of this.

She watched and observed her captors. She quietly eyed her cage, looking for a possible weak spot, carefully testing each bar by slowly pushing with her legs. She found one bar was loose, loose enough to jostle and with some force she was sure she could force it free and maybe squeeze out. She just needed to make sure she didn’t get caught.

As night fell the air grew colder. The orcs lit fires to light the area they were camping in. Ayla shivered as a cold wind blew through the bars of her cage, but it carried the sound of a familiar horn. Alerted to the incoming battle that would be upon them the orcs are rallied, picking up their arms running out to fight the elves. Ayla was then forgotten, giving her the opportunity she needed to make her escape. Bracing up against her cage she kicked out with all of her might at the weak bar, seeing it coming loose she kicked it several more times before it finally broke off. Eagerly she squeezed through the space, her clothes catching on the rough edges but she was close to freedom. Her feet stumbled on the uneven flagstones but that didn’t deter her from running like her ass was on fire. 

Out of range from the dim firelight, Ayla had to keep close to the wall, her vision poor in the dark. She could hear the sound of battle bouncing off the stone walls around her. In the dark, she felt like one of those people in a horror film and was just waiting for the monster to come around the corner. No! Don’t think like that! Not right now! She turned down a corner, losing her footing as she realized there were stairs there. It was a good thing she didn’t take an unplanned tumble down these jagged steps that would have been painful (and embarrassing). Still hugging the wall she descended the stairs, the sound of battle growing louder and…

“…Ayla!..”

She could hear someone calling her name in the distant. Thranduil? Her heart was pounding away in her chest. He was nearby. He came for her. She felt relief climbing its way to the surface, repelling the fear that had covered her. Now at the bottom of the stairs Ayla could see an exit and began to sprint towards it and was then out in the open where the elves and orcs were fighting. She searched for Thranduil, unable to see him and then called out his name.

“Ayla!” she turned to see the Elvenking cut down an orc, knowing he saw her in the dark with his perfect vision. Ayla could barely see him but she knew without a doubt that it was Thranduil. She made to go to him, to be in his safe embrace when suddenly she grabbed from behind. Ayla let out a scream when she saw it was the leader of this orc rabble, snarling down at her and then suddenly there was a sharp, white hot pain in her lower abdomen. All noise seem to fall away into the background as Ayla looked down to see that she had been stabbed, the deep red of her blood staining her front. The orc pulled the knife out and Ayla watched, the movement slow as if time was slowing down at that moment.

She fell to her knees, her hands clutching at her gushing wound. 

Thranduil was fueled with rage towards the fiend, sprinting at the orc like a madman, screaming in his rage as he raised his sword and swiftly cleaved his head clean off. He turned to Ayla, dropping to his knees and pulling her into his arms. She coughed up blood, her hands still clutching her bleeding wound and he placed his gloved hand over hers. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes as he held her close, despair gripping his heart as he feared of losing her. The battle around them was quieting down as the last of the orcs were slain.

“Do not let your light go out, _mui mel.”_ Thranduil said, lifting her into his arms before standing up. He called an order to make sure there were no orc survivors as he carried Ayla to his steed, intent on returning her home where Kwenthrith and their healers can tend to Ayla.

xxxxx

It still hurt. Even when it wasn’t her fault it still hurt. The loss. The emptiness. It felt like her heart had been skewered by the same blade that had pierced her womb. She was back in that darkness, back in that spiraling abyss of anger and sorrow. But this was different. This time she wasn’t alone. This time she had Thranduil, who comforted her, who felt her loss as his. After returning from Dol Guldor, Thranduil had Kwenthrith waiting for their arrival. Kwenthrith was fast in cutting away Ayla’s coat and blouse to see the wound properly, finding that it had already healed over on its own with the remains of an angry red line where the dagger had gone in. The elven woman knew of Ayla’s ability to heal and come back from death and so was not surprised to see her already on the mends, but the location of where the wound had been…and the blood staining her leggings between her legs.

Kwenthrith knew.

She helped Ayla bathe and change into a clean nightgown before assisting her into bed. Ayla had been quiet the entire time, obviously in shock. She left Ayla in Thranduil’s care for the night, knowing he would call for her if he needed anything.

Thranduil had also bathed and changed into clean clothes, a pair of loose trousers and a white silk shirt. He quietly joined Ayla in her bed, gently pulling her into his embrace and holding her close. He understood her silence, understood her pain for he, too, had lost his unborn child this very night. All he knew was that his heart was hurting and he would give whatever comfort and support he could until she healed.

xxxxx

Time eventually healed the wound on their hearts and life went on quietly. Ayla had not set foot outside the gates for several years, a part of her still scarred by what happened last time. To this day she still had no idea why the orcs attacked and chose to take her alive to Dol Guldor only to attempt to kill her there. It was a question she didn’t like to dwell on.

“Ow!”

Ayla focused on her current task, which was picking needle thorns out of her adopted son. “Sit still, you’re making my job harder by moving.”

“But it hurts.” Legolas whined, wincing when Ayla plucked out another thorn from his back. Legolas was getting older and now was in his rebellious teens and getting into all sorts of trouble. Ayla thought of it as simply him trying to impress a certain red-haired girl.

“Falling into a needle bush will hurt. You’re lucky none of them touched your face or eyes.” Ayla said, plucking out more thorns. The ones in his right flank were lodged in deep, making it hard for her to remove them without pinching his skin with the tweezers. “Hmm, we might have to soak these out.”

“What do you mean?” Legolas asked as Ayla stood up and walked over to one of the attending servants, requesting a bath be drawn for the prince. Ayla then returned to her seat behind Legolas, picking up her tweezers and continued to pluck at the thorns she could remove. The poor prince winced again, gritting his teeth and balling his hands into tight fists on his knees.

“How goes the progress?” Thranduil asked as he entered the room, much to his son’s dismay at the embarrassing situation, half naked and covered in needle thorns.

“Well enough considering your son is lucky to not have lost his sight.” Ayla said, still plucking away at the thorns she could reach.

“Lucky indeed. Perhaps this will show you not to act recklessly in the future.” Thranduil said, looking down at his son who refused to meet his gaze. Thranduil then looked to Ayla who was focused on the painstaking work of plucking out every single thorn she could from his son’s fair skin, leaving red dots in their wake. Beside her was a small bowl, almost full with needle thorns that had been extracted. Ayla had been working for over an hour since Legolas returned in his humiliating condition.

“I think I’ve got all the ones that I could and after your soak in the bath I should be able to get to the rest of them a little easier.” Ayla said, setting the tweezers down and standing up with a tired sigh. Legolas stood up a little gingerly and walked equally as careful, heading to his room to sit in the bath as instructed.

Thranduil turned fully to Ayla, caressing her cheek with the back of his knuckles. She leaned into his touch, smiling up at him. “A message arrived today from Gondor, requesting the Lady Healer to help with a deadly fever outbreak within their capitol.”

“Gondor? That’s practically a world away. More than likely by the time I get there it might be at the end stage of dying out.” Ayla said, thinking how it would be at least a month on horseback.

“Shall I send back word that you are unavailable?”

“No, I’ll go, but…” Ayla lowered her gaze, unable to say that she was apprehensive to leave the safety of the Woodland Realm. A part of her afraid of being taken by surprise again by unsavory folk.

He brushed away the loose strands of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear and letting his fingers graze against her cheek. “It’s been ten years, _mui mel,_ and as much as I enjoy you being near it pains me to see you have become a wilted flower in the shade. I believe this may help you.”

Ayla let out a slow breath. “Taking a big leap of faith just for me. I have to say I’m flattered.” she said, looking up at him with a small smile. “I love you. Since coming to Middle Earth all those years ago you’re probably the best thing that has ever come into my life.”

He raised a brow at her. _“Probably?_ I’m not sure if I should be insulted or not.”

Her smile grew into a grin. “Well, Legolas has been quite the charmer since day one.”

“Hmm, I suppose exiling my only son out of jealousy would not reflect well on my character.”

Ayla giggled and raised up on her toes to kiss his smirking lips. “You’re the king; you can do as you please.”

“You’re right, I am the king.” Thranduil said, grabbing Ayla and lifting her up. Her legs wrapped around his hips on instinct. Laughing, Ayla lowered her head down to kiss him, always enjoying these moments with him when he was feeling spontaneous.

She truly loved this man with all her heart.


	8. Chapter Eight

The trip to Gondor didn’t go as Ayla had expected. Long story short; it was the last time she went to a human dominated city.

Years passed and the fame of the Lady Healer grew quiet as sightings of her wandering the roads between kingdoms of men became fewer and soon she became a legend. Her true name long forgotten and simply remembered as the Mother of Mercy. She became a deity to mothers who would pray to her while looking after their children when sick, praying for her to turn her healing hand to their child and take away all ailments. Surgeons in armies prayed for her wisdom to touch them while they tried to save lives. Apothecaries would claim to sell the tonics blessed by Mercy, and merchants would sell pendants and trinkets with claims that it once belonged to the Great Mother. 

Although mankind had long since forgotten her true name and face, she was not at all gone. Ayla had merely grown weary of mankind, her unnaturally long life and the unexplainable ability to come back from the dead separated her from them, because she wasn’t them. Not anymore. Ayla simply moved between elves and dwarves, since they accepted her immortality with few questions, each race believing she was either blessed by gods long since gone or was the last of those gods. Whichever they believed made no difference to Ayla as her search for a way back to her world had ended long ago when she fell in love with a certain Elvenking.

And there was relative peace between the dwarves and elves.

It was only through the relationships she had made between the two races that she became the final voice of reason during troubling times of war and disputes. An ambassador to the elves and dwarves and only for a short time to the humans whose king showed his gratitude by attempting to rape her and then charged her for witchcraft and then burning her at the stake. Since then she figured it was best to simply stick with non-humans.

Ayla spent much of her time in the Woodland Realm, raising Legolas with Thranduil into a fine young man. Although she still doted on him like he were small. She supposed that’s how mother will always feel about their children, no matter how old they get they will always be those little be those little scamps. And so Legolas will always be the adorable little boy who followed her around like a puppy.

Thranduil kept his word, staying by her side even through troubling times. The love he gave always warm and welcoming. Ayla couldn’t be happier than she was right now.

When Thror, King Under the Mountain, had called for her audience, he showed her the Arkenstone and boasted to her of it solidifying his claim to the throne. As a doctor, Ayla could already see the beginning of a mental illness taking hold of the elderly king and she had expressed her concern to his son, Thrain, warning him that it was only going to get worse. Thrain brushed off her warning, denying his father’s slow descent into madness while Thorin, the king’s grandson, heeded her warning.

“How have your travels been?” asked Dagna, wife of Prince Thrain and mother to Thorin, as she and Ayla sat comfortably on a stone bench that was situated to look out at the impressive city in the mountain.

“No more exciting than crossing the streets here in Erebor.” Ayla said, smiling at her dear friend who reminded her so much of her friend Valka, Thror’s grandmother. “I haven’t seen much of your son, has he finally found a young lady to fawn over?”

Dagna laughed behind her hand, the skin around her eyes crinkling from her laughter and her round rosy cheeks dimpling. The soft curls of her red hair swaying. “Oh yes, but she is no dwarf maiden I’m afraid.”

“A human?” Ayla asked, getting a nod from her friend. “Is she from Dale?”

“He’s been spending long hours with the forges, and I can only guess that he is making his proposal gift.”

“Oooh, it must really be serious then. She’s a lucky woman.”

Dagna’s eyes sparkled as she put a hand adorned with the finest rings upon Ayla’s knee and leaned forward. “I believe he is making it for you.” She laughed again at the stunned look on Ayla’s face as she leaned back against the backrest of the bench.

“For me? But why?” Ayla asked.

“He’s always been fond of you, Ayla, and his affections for you have only grown every time you visit.”

“But I was the one who delivered him when you gave birth to him. I even was there when his father was born! And I’m in a committed relationship with Thranduil.” She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest and also hooking one knee over the other. “You’re his mother, you should be discouraging him.”

“And why would I do such a thing? Love is love, Ayla. As much as I wish he were pining for another dwarf woman, he has chosen to pine for you. At least the woman he’s infatuated with is someone I like.”

Ayla scoffed and clicked her tongue, getting another giggle from the dwarf woman. “I guess I’ll have to let him down easy if it’s true.”

“My dear friend, if you married my Thorin then I can rest easy knowing that he chose a dependable woman. Plus, think of the scandal! My Thorin, stealing you away from the Elvenking! Everyone from here to the Iron Hills will gossip and call you a witch!”

“Oh, ha ha! You’re a wicked woman deep down.”

Dagna laughed again and Ayla shook her head.

xxxxx

“Ayla, is this accurate?” Kwenthrith asked, holding up one of her journals that she used for cataloging medical curiosities. They were currently walking along the stone pathway, crossing the deep chasm near the Great Hall. Ayla took the journal that was handed to her, her eyes scanning over the beautiful calligraphy of Kwenthrith’s writing. Accurate sketches of the skeletal spine from all sides was on one page. 

“You’re such a talented artist; I can barely draw stick figures.” Ayla said.

“Nothing is amiss?”

“No, nothing. All thirty-three vertebrae are present. Twenty-four presacral vertebrae, the sacrum and then the coccyx. Seven, twelve, five, five, and four. All of them are accounted for.” Ayla said, “Are you planning on drawing out the central nervous system next?”

“The what?” Kwenthrith asked. Ayla smiled at the elf but before she could explain they were stopped in their path. Thorin stood before them, looking oddly nervous as he looked between the two of them.

He cleared his throat. “Lady Ayla, may I have a moment of your time please?” he asked, and then quickly adding, “Alone?”

Ayla handed the journal back to Kwenthrith who then took her leave, gracefully heading back the way they came. Thorin shifted on his feet and cleared his throat again. The sound of Dagna’s laughter rung in her ears as she waited for Thorin to start. Ayla knew Thorin since he first took his breath, and every time she came to visit he grew taller and older (and handsomer). When he stood before her, he came to be at eye level with her sternum. He was a good looking man, there was no denying that. His dark hair and roguish features were right up her alley but clearly her taste in men have changed.

Once upon a time, in a world far, far away, there lived a wild woman who had low self-esteem… that was definitely more than a lifetime ago for Ayla.

“I, um…have been thinking as of late…” he began, obviously trying his best. Ayla didn’t want to embarrass or hurt his pride and waited patiently for him to get on with it. “I had it all planned out in my head…this has turned out to be harder than I imagined. I…well I…” he reached into his pocket and stepped closer to her as he held up his hand to her, presenting a beautiful silver chain with charms of different shapes; leaves, stars, hearts, keys, a crescent moon, all linked to the chain. “I made this…for you.”

“For me?” Ayla asked, not taking the bracelet but instead looking past his gift to his face, his blue eyes looking up at her.

“Yes, it’s…it’s a pro-proposal gift.”

“Proposal…as in marriage.” it wasn’t a question.

He quickly looked away and closed his hand into a fist as it dropped to his side. “I’ve always had feelings for you. At first I only knew you as my mother’s friend, and you had always been so kind and generous towards me and my people. I had regarded you with great respect, but that respect turned into love. And I know I’m being foolish, mother tells me I’m too impulsive, that I don’t think things through…but I have given this a lot of thought and I’m taking a risk by laying my heart out to you.”

Ayla smiled down at him, placing her hands on his shoulders. “Thorin…you’ve become a fine young man, and I’m flattered that you feel so strongly for me. If our circumstances were different then I wouldn’t hesitate to accept your proposal, but you know I can’t. I’m sorry, Thorin, but thank you for thinking of me.”

“I want you to have it anyways as a token of my affection.” he said, taking her right hand and slipping the chain around it to rest at her wrist. “It’s made of mithril. Whenever you look at it, think of me.” He kissed the back of her knuckles before releasing her and hurriedly walking away.

She looked down at her wrist, the beautiful chain glimmering there with its charms. He wanted her to think of him whenever she looked at it, and she was sure he wanted her to think of him fondly but all she thought of was the hurt and embarrassment he obviously felt. Wonderful. Regardless, though, it was still a beautiful gift and she was a woman who enjoyed shiny trinkets now and then (not that Thranduil had ever given her any jewelry, not even a fucking engagement ring or her own damn crown of twigs and berries! Wait…were they engaged? Or are they already considered married? Elven laws and traditions still elude her to this day.).

_Is this considered cheating, then?_

xxxxx

A kiss on the cheek and a strong, warm embrace from Legolas (now a fine young man), Ayla was welcomed back into the Woodland Realm. And like always, she would enter the halls of the kingdom, walk along the familiar path towards the King’s throne where he would be sitting, like always, in his arrogant pose. The air intensifying with every step that brought her closer to him, boldly holding his stare. Once, she was intimidated by such a piercing stare that held so much animosity and disdain towards her, and then the meaning behind those eyes slowly changed over the years. 

Irritation. Tolerance. Amusement. Challenging. Respect. Friendship. Lust. Love. Adoration.

The list goes on.

To be honest, even several hundred years later, Ayla was still affected by his piercing stare, but instead of anxiety it was lust. Pure lust. Love played a part but the way that man looked at her brought out a carnal need in her. She considered herself lucky to even have his affections as they currently were. Once upon a time they could hardly stand each other (alcohol sure played a significant part in their early relationship). He was one of the Sindar, of whom he once arrogantly told her as being superior to all other elves, and Ayla being human, was obviously at the bottom of the hierarchy. Not like that made a difference in the bedroom (or on his throne that one time). 

“Sometimes I wonder if you ever move from your throne whenever I leave.” Ayla said sarcastically as she stopped in the center of the platform.

“Well, you will never know if you continue to come and go as you please.” he replied smoothly as he uncrossed his legs and stood up from his throne in a fluid motion, and descended the steps to the platform to stand before Ayla. “At the very least you appear unharmed.” he caressed the side of her face with the backs of his knuckles, curving down to hook under her chin and tilt her head up so that he may kiss her lips in welcome. Ayla accepted his kiss, returning it in kind, reserving the heat he sparked in her for later. “Have the dwarves treated you well?”

“You know they do. Unlike you, they’re very delightful hosts. Fun even.” Ayla replied, her fingers playing on the lines of his regal robes. “Thorin has grown into a fine young man, and it was good to see Dagna again.”

“If they are so pleasant to be around then perhaps you should go back to them.”

“Hmm, was that a hint of jealousy I heard?” a sly smile playing on her lips.

Silence.

Ayla stifled a giggle, “You know I can never stay away for too long, your son is very reckless. What if he falls into needle thorns again? Or worse—gets a girlfriend that you don’t approve of?”

“You’re teasing me, I can tell.” Thranduil said dryly though she could see a hint of a smile on his delicious lips. “Legolas has proven himself capable so there is no need to worry.”

“He also seems to have grown fond of Tauriel.”

“My General knows her place.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so.”

Ayla rolled her eyes at him. Centuries together and he still remained obtuse to certain things, especially when his son was involved. With a last kiss Ayla departed to their living quarters to unpack and unwind from her travels. A hot bath was waiting for her like usual, and after bathing Ayla would then sit out on the veranda, listening to the forest and breathing in its fragrant perfume. The same earthy scent that lingered on Thranduil. She smiled to herself, thinking about her life, of all the struggles and heartbreak she endured in her youth; then she reflected on her life in Middle Earth, with Thranduil. Her treatment now was a far cry from back then. Accepted by all of the elven and dwarven kingdoms as a friend and liaison, while she had been driven out by humans. 

Such irony.

She picked up the long outer dress to put on over her gauzy chemise, clasping the three buttons in the front below her breasts, making a V-line from the collar and an A-line from the waist down. It always amazed her how the elves could make such delicate looking materials only for it to be so strong and durable—and not to mention light and comfortable. She lifted her right wrist, pulling back the sleeve to see the gift Thorin had specially forged for her by his own hands. A chain bracelet made of mithril with an assortment of dangling charms of the same ore of various shapes. The bracelet wasn’t a perfect fit around her wrist, as it hung loosely and risked slipping off if she wasn’t careful. It was a beautiful gift to receive, especially one made of such a rare metal, but its history now will be a sad memory of a young Prince’s broken heart.

She had heard that male dwarves would specially make jewelry for a specific woman in mind for a proposal of marriage. Never in a million years would she have believed to be proposed to by a prince (not to mention sleeping with an elven king), let alone a prince she helped deliver into the world. She wondered how Thranduil would react if she told him about Thorin’s proposal. Would he be jealous or nonchalant about it?

Pulling the sleeve back down to cover the beautiful gift, Ayla leaned forward on the railing, staring out at the trees. She liked how the setting sun cast shadows on the branches. Her finger toying the charms on her bracelet as she watched the shadows dancing in the trees. It wasn’t Netflix but it definitely captured her attention.

“Why is it that I can always find you in that very spot at this time of day?” 

She turned her head to look over her shoulder at him, smiling softly at him before turning to gaze back out at her favorite pastime. “I like the way the trees look as the sun goes down.” she replied, unable to resist the urge and turned her head again to see him still staring so intently at her as he slowly walked up to her, stopping just close enough for her to feel his body heat radiating off of him.

“It does capture the waning light, casting the illusion of the trees moving.” he said, finally closing the gap and pressing his chest into her back, wrapping his arms around her waist, hugging her from behind. She pressed back against him, enjoying the warmth of his embrace.

“Nothing stays the same forever.” Ayla said, “Seeing my friends again in Erebor, it got me thinking about the last time I had visited the Iron Hills or Moria even. It’s been so long I’m sure my friends there are old and grey.”

“It is as you say,” he said softly, pressing his lips to the top of her head and planting a kiss there. “What is life without change? Ayla…” the sound of her name rolling off his tongue sent a hot shiver down her body as he pulled back and turned her around to face him. “Tell me what troubles you. What is it that makes you act stranger than usual?”

Stranger than usual…that made her laugh softly, as she placed her hands on his chest. “In Erebor…”

She watched him take hold of her right hand and pushed back the sleeve where the bracelet hung on her wrist. “Is this a gift from them? The dwarves?”

“Yes, from Thorin…he made it for me.” She felt her heart picking up speed in her chest.

“It is a lovely gift of which I will allow for you to keep…but that dwarf cannot have you.” Ayla looked up at him, seeing something in his cool grey eyes. Was that…jealousy? Was he jealous? Why did that make her so happy? Does she want him to be jealous? Fuck, she felt like a hormonal high schooler craving for a bit of teenage drama. His hand cupped her cheek while the other wrapped around to the small of her back and pulling her closer to him until she was pressing right up against his firm body. “You are the one treasure the dwarves cannot have.”

He lowered his head down and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. She felt joy and heat spread from her chest to the rest of her body, their mouths melded together in perfect harmony. She let out a giggle and pulled back from their kiss. He was jealous. That couldn’t make her any happier.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me to leave.” she said, finding his jealousy to be quite the turn on for her. “I love you, Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm. All of me belongs to only you.”

His beautiful face that had once been a mask of no emotion was now expressing so much to her that it made her bones melt. His touch was gentle and warm against her cheek, her eyes falling to his lips…those painfully perfect lips. Lips that she had tasted before had her running her tongue over and bite the supple flesh between her teeth. Her eyes returned back to his, falling into the spell of their clear depths as she felt his other hand on her other cheek, holding her face up to him. She placed her hands gently on his wrists, unable to break eye contact. She didn’t push him away or pull him closer; she just simply allowed her eyes to feast on his beauty. 

The pads of his thumbs stroked her cheeks, the sensation leaving a trail of searing desire, sending a delicious shiver down her spine. It suddenly dawned on her that the space that still remained between them was too large a gap that needed to be closed immediately, but she couldn’t move. Her body ached and wanted so badly for him to relieve that aching.

As if hearing her need he lowered his head down, pulling her face upwards as his lips descended upon hers. Soft, warm, and oh so perfect as their kiss started off slow and gentle, testing the waters of possibility. When they slowly parted and looked into each other’s eyes again she felt breathless and weightless. Reaching up, Ayla pulled Thranduil’s head down, pressing her lips to his again, passionate and hot. He released her face to press a heavy palm into the middle of her back, pulling her body closer to him while the other cradled the back of her head to hold her in place.

The kiss was everything and more, his touch lighting a fire within her as her heart raced inside her chest. The longer their lips stayed together, the more heated the kiss became and the bolder their touches got. Ayla then suddenly felt like their clothes were too much of a barrier, preventing her from being closer to him. She slid her hands over the silky fabric of his tunic, feeling the firm, taut muscles of his stomach and chest. She heard him groan softly into her mouth, his hands pressing harder against her body and she felt a very pleasant hardening pressing below her navel.

She couldn’t wait to have him inside her.

He pushed her back with his body until her rear hit the railing of the veranda and then was lifted up onto it like she weighed nothing. His hands pulled up the skirt of her dress and pushed her legs apart with his thighs as he nestled himself in the cradle of her legs. She sucked in air through her teeth, the feeling of his bulge pressed into her sent liquid fire into the pit of her belly, making her ache even more for him. His face close to hers, allowing her to breathe in his woodsy scent while his hot hands trailed up heavily on her thighs, moving under her dress to hook his fingers over her smalls, ripping the flimsy fabric like paper. She gasped at his action, her need for more of his touch growing stronger.

Her lips found his again, opening her mouth to him as their tongues explored each other. She dragged her nails down his front and then tugging on the waistband of his pants, her fingers undoing the ties that secured his pants to his hips. She sucked in a sharp gasp when she felt a finger nimbly slide past her nectared lips between her legs. She let out a moan, unconsciously opening her legs wider to his plundering fingers, momentarily forgetting what her own hands had been doing.

He added another finger past her lips, and then a third, already her inner muscle quivering and clenching from his touch. His long, clever fingers stroked her in slow, torturous movements, dragging out a whimper from her as she dropped her forehead into his chest. Her eyes squeezed shut and she bit her bottom lip.

“Ayla, look at me.” came his sultry voice, his other hand tilting her face up under her chin. She did as she was told, opening her eyes and looking at him. Her face was flushed and her eyes begging him for more. Clearly whatever her expression was pleased the spoiled elf King as his fingers began to move faster, deeper, resulting in another moan from her, bringing her closer to the edge with every stroke.

Her hands fisted the front of his silk tunic as she threw her head back, an unrecognizable sound escaping her throat as her body convulsed from a very long and overdue orgasm. Thranduil had moved his free hand to her back, keeping her from falling back while he watched her, enthralled with the face she made at the height of ecstasy from his very touch. Her inner muscles contracting and squeezing his fingers tightly as she rode out her release. He pulled out his fingers, slick with her juice as he moved his hands to grip her thighs and picked her up. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs around his hips as he carried her inside the room towards the bed. Ayla had undone the clasps of her overdress and quickly discarding it before pushing off Thranduil’s coat from his shoulders of which he assisted with. He kissed her red, swollen lips as he laid her down, pushing her body further up towards the center of the bed.

Ayla looked up at him, running her fingers through his silky platinum hair, her nails gently scraping along his scalp. She relished the feel of his weight on top of her, her thighs hugging his sharp hips. He pulled away from her, sitting up on his knees to take off his shirt and tossed the light material aside. Ayla admired the beautiful work of art he was, her eyes tracing the perfect contours of his chest and abdomen, his broad shoulders balanced out by the graceful narrowing of his torso to the sharp triangle of his hips; and just below that was the straining bulge beneath his breeches. His arms lined with the perfect curves of muscle, thick lines of blue veins running up the inner part of his forearms and up his perfect biceps.

So strong, so beautiful, so very touchable, and he was hers. She watched him come back down to her, his lips descending back to hers while his hands roamed up and down her sides. With his shirt now off, Ayla was able to indulge her sense of touch as she traced her fingers over every line of muscle within reach. She moaned into the kiss, his touch keeping the fire inside her burning hot and the aching between her legs returning as his bulge rubbed up against her. Suddenly their remaining clothes were simply offensive as they were still preventing her from touching every inch of him with her body.

She reached down between them and yanked at his waistband again, sliding her hand in and grasping his hard manhood. Hard, hot, smooth, and pleasantly thick and long. She heard him gasp and then groan, his hips pressing into her hand. 

“I must have you,” he growled, the huskiness in his voice sending a thrill down her spine. Taking her hands and locking them over her head with one hand he pushed his pants down further on his hips with the other and guided himself to her core and slowly pushed in. Ayla’s back arched upward, her stomach pressing up into his as he stretched her open as a throaty moan escaped from her. The slight pain was delicious as he buried himself completely in her. 

Finally joined. 

Thranduil closed his eyes, lowering his head down to touch his forehead to hers, lost in the sensation of their joining. She was hot, tight, and soft all at once. It always took him by surprise whenever they had sex, her body always receiving him and making it feel like their first time every time. The feeling of her soft thighs around his hips, her hard nipples teasing through the thin fabric of her chemise, grazing along his chest from the gentle rise and fall of every breath she took. The sound of every sigh, moan and mewling from her were like beautiful music to his ears and he wanted to hear more as he opened his eyes and looked into her brown ones, darkened by lust and desire as they stared back up at him.

He released her hand and immediately he felt her fingers in his hair, her nails lightly scraping over his scalp was soothing and arousing at the same time. He pressed another kiss to her already swollen lips, devouring her mouth with greed as he slid a hand down over her throat and to one of her breasts, squeezing the soft mound of flesh and then teasing the nipple with a hard pinch, eliciting another musical moan from her and her hips bucking up into his in response. He moved his hand down her side and stopped at her hip, sliding his hand underneath her to grasp one of her cheeks and pulled her hips up, earning him another moan from her.

He pried himself away from her addicting lips as he slowly pulled out with only the head still in her before sliding back in, repeating the movement, slowly increasing the pace. Her back arched and her head rolled back, exposing her throat to him that he graciously accepted, sucking and biting at the delicate skin. His lust for her burned brightly as he trailed his mouth up her throat, along the line of her jaw and back to her lips and delving his tongue into her mouth, craving her taste as their tongues twisted and explored. His hips gyrated against hers, thrusting deeper, harder, faster. The intensity of their pleasure rising. 

The pressure building higher. 

Ready to release.

His grip on her hip was firm and tighter as his body moved on its own, his mind clouded by the primal need as his movements became faster, hungrier. He barely registered the sharp sting running down his back as Ayla dragged her nails along his hot skin before sliding back up to grasp at his shoulders. Her moaning turning into cries of pleasure, her body writhing underneath him, her hips meeting his in rhythm.

She cried out his name as she came, sending the King over the edge as his body strained and released himself inside her. His hips still jutting as the last of his seed spilled into her before finally every muscle in his body relaxed, letting his complete weight rest atop of Ayla’s smaller frame as he grew soft inside her. He rested his face in the crook of her neck, both of them catching their breaths. Ayla’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, one hand lazily stroking the back of his head.

They spoke no words as none needed to be said and laid in comfortable silence, basking in the afterglow of their incredible lovemaking. Ayla wanted nothing more than for time to stop right then and there, her heart so full and her body sated by the very man who was resting atop of her. It was almost too perfect that it frightened her. Could this truly be real? Could such a beautiful, powerful man truly love her so unconditionally? When she reflected back to when she told him about her past and her tragedies; and to their own loss after the orcs had kidnapped her, he stayed by her side. He didn’t cast her out or took pity on her. He continued to treat her the same. He never looked at her with pity.

_Come on, Ayla, you’ve been with this man for centuries now. You two are practically married. Of course he loves you, and you love him._

She felt him shift, lifting his upper half up, his beautiful face hovering over hers. His normally porcelain skin was blemished with the tint of red, still flushed from their lovemaking. A gentle, warm smile was on his perfectly curved lips, his usually light, icy grey eyes were several shades darker to a near stormy grey and his pupils still dilated. She smiled back up at him, knowing for certain that she looked a wreck compared to him, but at that very moment she could care less because he made her feel like the only woman in the world. He made her feel whole again. He took away all of her self-doubt and made her forget her painful past. He made her so happy.

Ayla stroked his cheek, his skin still hot under her touch and she watched him close his beautiful eyes and released a contented sigh before opening them again. She lifted her head up to press her bruised lips to his, immediately gratified with her kiss being returned. Resting her head back against the soft mattress to look at him some more, trying to wrap her brain around the reality that this gorgeous being was with her.

“I love you,” she said, stroking his cheek again. 

“And I you, _mui mel.”_

They remained together in heated passion, what remained of their clothes had been long since thrown aside. Their naked skin sliding against each other, their hands exploring every inch, every curve and dip. They alternated between fast and hard to slow and gentle, relearning what made the other moan and sigh with satisfaction until their spent bodies could no longer go on. Both were equally sated but could not get enough of each other’s touch.

Ayla slept in the comfort of Thranduil’s embrace, his strong arms around her and their legs tangled together. Her face rested in the crook of his neck, breathing in his woodsy scent of cedar and spice. When she finally awoke the sun had been up for hours but the time of day was the least of her concern as she blinked open her eyes to a vision of Thranduil. He was lying on his side, his head propped up languidly against his knuckles, his grey eyes watching her while his other hand gently traced lines over every inch of her skin that he could reach. He watched her with a tenderness that she had always pined for and now had, and it filled her chest with happiness.

She smiled shyly back at him, her eyes taking him in as she remembered last night. His eyes were brighter than they had ever been, his normally steeled face was soft and relaxed, his platinum hair glowed in the daylight like a halo, and his lips…his perfect, bowed lips…dusky pink and still slightly swollen from being kissed all night long. It was hard to believe that such a perfect being of ethereal beauty loved her back.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, his voice was so gentle and carried such warmth.

Ayla nodded, “Yeah, did you?” she asked, inwardly cringing at the sound of her voice. Her voice was hoarse and she sounded like a heavy chain-smoker, but that didn’t seem to bother him as he lifted his hand to smooth back her hair from her face. Her hair…it probably looked like a bird’s nest by now! She tried to be as discreet as possible under his stare, sliding a hand over her mouth to check for drool. Oh thank goodness, no drool. She supposed immortality had its ups and downs; the up is that she’ll never have to worry about dying in a nursing home from neglect. The downside, she’ll never have the perfection the elves seem to ooze from every pore, from the tips of their toes to the ends of their hair, nothing on them was ever out of place. Lucky bastard probably never had to suffer the agony that was puberty and teenage acne that required a five month course of accutane.

“Having you sleep in my arms again gave me comfort in the night.” He leaned into her, pressing his dusky lips to her swollen and bruised ones. As sore as her lips were, she didn’t mind a little pain if it meant she could continue to kiss this man. “You are so beautiful like this, naked in my bed, and just waking from a night of pleasure.”

A shiver ran through her body and heat pooled between her legs. She moaned softly at the feel of his hot hand slowly grazing down her bare back and over the curve of her bottom and going further between the line of her cheeks. His long fingers reached for her still swollen lips and dipped a finger into her, taking in a sharp breath to find her wet and pulsing under his touch. His mouth found hers as he pulled her body up against him, the feel of his stiff morning wood pressing into her thigh lighting a fire in her belly. She was rolled onto her back with him on top, his hips settling in the cradle of her legs and she welcomed his weight by wrapping her legs around him and locking him in place until he gave into her need to be fully rejoined. She hissed at the stinging pain of his engorged cock pushing through her raw and tender folds, but she didn’t stop him and welcomed the pain as her body granted him easy entry.

All awareness of the world that was not Thranduil faded away into nothingness. She was consumed by everything that was him, his kiss, his touch, the salt in his sweat, the feel of his skin sliding against hers. Their bodies rocking like a boat in a stormy sea, their pleasure swelling up like waves racing to crash into the cliffs. A sharp intake of air and Ayla was already riding upon the waves of her orgasm, her walls tightening and clenching around the hot, hard appendage that continued to stroke her insides, the head continuing to hit the hidden bundle of nerves. She heard a feral growl rumble out of Thranduil, feeling it vibrate through his chest as his body tensed up atop of her, a final thrust that buried him to the hilt as he released his hot seed into her, filling her up with his essence. His hips jutting forward into her as her inner walls milked every last drop from him.

Breathless and once more sated, they relaxed into the softness of the bed. Thranduil pulled himself out of her slowly with a low groan before rolling onto his back beside her. Ayla could hardly move a finger without putting effort into it, her body still humming from her climax. Any thought of the world beyond the bed was far away; her only concern now was if she will ever be able to walk again.

xxxxx

Two days and three full nights. That’s how long she and Thranduil had indulged in one another’s company until it was time to move beyond the world outside of his quarters and rejoin society. It seemed they would always fall into this pattern whenever she returned from an extended period away. They acted like horny teenagers unable to keep their hands off of each other, always needing to be touching. It had felt like a dream…a blissful, beautiful, _shameless_ dream, and to wake from it was a regrettable but necessary act. And a small part of her felt terrified that she will never have that dream again, but she knew that fear would leave her as soon as she saw his smile. It was hard to hide the broad smile on her face and the rosy glow of her cheeks, especially since _everyone_ knew. 

Looking at her reflection in the mirror Ayla eyed at all the red and purple hickies on her neck and chest, she sighed at the sight of them. The memory of how she received them made her flush from her chest to her ears, and she would now have to hide them under a high collar until they faded in a day or two. Her bruised and swollen lips however were a different matter, but she had serious doubts anyone other than Kwenthrith would ask.

“How was your… _eightieth?_ Eighty-first honeymoon?” Kwenthrith asked as she entered her room. Ayla immediately closed her gown, pulling the collar up high to hide her neck before turning to face the elf maiden. She saw the knowing look on her face, the smirk tugging at her lips, and the amused glint in her purple eyes.

“Are you keeping track?” Ayla asked, feeling her face getting hot. Kwenthrith let out a musical laugh as she approached her and took her hands in hers.

“You’re happy and in love, I can see it.” she said, “And Lord Thranduil, he too is happy. Happier than I have ever seen him to be when he is with you.” Kwenthrith gently tugged open Ayla’s collar and the amusement returned in her eyes tenfold. “It appears the past few days you’ve been… _occupied.”_ Ayla’s face turned bright red as she clutched at her collar closed. Kwenthrith laughed again at her reaction. “You know as well I do that your love for each other is known, and it is something to be quite envious about.”

“Well, I can certainly endure another’s envy.” Ayla said, feeling her ego swelling up at that thought.

“With all this physical activity you and Lord Thranduil have been doing then perhaps I should prepare the nursery?” Kwenthrith turned to look at Ayla, but her teasing smile faltered at the sight of her friend’s expression. The elf maiden had momentarily forgotten and recognized her error. “Forgive me, _melon,_ I misspoke.” 

“It’s fine. That was a long time ago.” Ayla reassured, giving Kwenthrith a warm smile. “I’ve moved on from that now.”

xxxxx

(Past)

Sitting with Pamela and their two mutual friends, Stacy and Becky, for their bi-monthly get together, celebrating. It had been four years since Ayla’s divorce, which meant it had been four years since Stacy go married and had just announced to the group that she was pregnant, and of course, in her early stage every waft of smell that passed her nose made her gag.

“Three-way Stacy now a mother-to-be,” Becky mused, “Clearly miracles still happen in the modern age.”

“You’re married, why don’t you have any kids?” Stacy asked with a hand over her mouth as if to keep herself from vomiting.

“Because I like to travel to exotic places, drink alcohol, eat sushi, and smoke cigars.” Becky said, “And I’m not giving that up for nine months just to grow a freedom-eating parasite. Kids are nothing but a cesspool of sticky fingers, funky smells, and conjunctivitis.”

Ayla snorted. Good ol’ Becky, the poster-child of anti-motherhood. Although Ayla had no follow-up comment on the topic because she was the only one in their group who had multiple failed pregnancies; and she was the one who wanted children the most.

“I think I’d like to have a baby.” Pamela said, giving the group pause as the three women looked to her in collective shock. “I’ve given it a lot of thought and I think I’d go with IVF.”

“You can’t be serious.” Ayla deadpanned.

“Why not? I can shop around for the perfect donor, have myself inseminated, and get pregnant with no baby-daddy drama. Donor gets paid and I get a mini-me.” Pamela said.

“And have you picked a donor?” Stacy asked.

“Oh heavens no! I’m not doing it _now.”_ Pamela said.

“Thank god!” the three of them all breathed together in relief.

“You bitches are supposed to be supportive friends.” Pamela scoffed, “You support Stacy’s alien but reject my carefully laid plan.”

“Can you blame us? You’re not exactly… _motherly.”_ Ayla said, “But if that’s what you want who am I to stop you?”

Pamela smiled giddily as she leaned over and hugged Ayla’s side. “Oooh! I knew you’d be on my side!”

“What about you, Ayla?” Stacy asked, “I know it’s a sore subject for you but if given the chance, would you?”

“I think after last time it gave me a clear sign that my body just isn’t made to have babies.” Ayla said.

“Well, what about adoption?” Stacy asked.

“I’m a divorcee who works long hours at the hospital and is on-call every other weekend and doesn’t own a car. I seriously doubt any agency will view me as a suitable parent or even as a foster parent.” Ayla said, picking up her cup of coffee and taking a sip of it.

“Wait, are you saying you’ve already looked into that?” Pamela asked. Ayla just shrugged her shoulders.

“Leave her alone,” Becky said, being the first to sense Ayla’s darkening mood. “Priorities change as we get older. We’re all in our thirties, we’re established women with careers. Some of us are married, some of us are single, and some of us are planning to have a family. I’m proud of us all.”

“How far along are you, Stacy?” Pamela asked.

“Not very far, I’m just sixteen weeks in.” Stacy said.

“Four months…you’re just going into your second trimester.” Ayla said, “Have you done a gender test yet?”

“Isn’t it kinda early to tell the gender?” Stacy asked.

“Nope, you can have a blood test done to determine the sex of the baby.” Pamela said.

“Shit, medicine and science certainly is changing fast.” Becky said.

“I do wanna ask you guys something,” Stacy began, looking at Ayla and Pamela. “Will one of you be there to deliver my baby?”

“I deal with stupid patients and interns.” Pamela said.

“I cut open stupid patients with stupid interns.” Ayla said.

“But you’re trained doctors; don’t you all go through every aspects of medicine, including delivering babies?” Stacy asked.

Ayla and Pamela looked at each other and Ayla shook her head. “You take it, I’m tagging out on this one.”

“Technically we can deliver babies but our special areas of interest in medicine don’t usually put us in a scenario with infants.” Pamela said, “If it were an emergency situation such as stuck in traffic or stranded in the mountains, then yes, we will deliver your baby.”

“Well I still want all of you girls there, including Amber.” Stacy said.

“Where is Amber these days?” Ayla asked.

“Last I checked her Instagram feed, she’s somewhere in the Gobi Dessert.” Becky said.

“The fuck she doing there?” Ayla asked.

Becky shrugged, “Nat-Geo sends her to the weirdest places.”

“Y’know, her last gallery show was fantastic. I wonder if she’ll do another one when she comes back.” Pamela said.

The four friends continued with their brunch, reminiscing about their crazy twenties and complaining about their jobs. Ayla enjoyed these gatherings, cherishing the moments as she had very few people in her life that she could easily call her family, and these three were certainly those few people, including Amber (wherever she is). Their history together spanning over ten years now, and she hoped for another ten and then some. Seattle was their home, the four of them strongly agreed on that, always saying they can’t see themselves living anywhere else in the world.

“To another brunch of us crazy bitches not getting ourselves kicked out!” Pamela toasted.

“To three-way Stacy!” Becky added and the four of them clinked their glasses together.

xxxxx

(Present)

Ayla sidled up to stand next Legolas who was looking down at the training field of elves practicing their skills. One elf in particular, Legolas watched with great interest. A red-headed elf maiden who Ayla knew to be a kind and curious young woman, always interested in looking through Kwenthrith’s tomes. She was certainly unlike the others, making Ayla like her more.

“She’s very good.” Ayla said, looking down into the field.

“Yes, but as are the others.” Legolas said.

She smiled, “You know, women like it when men bring them flowers. Even complimenting them on little things like what qualities you find endearing about her.”

“I’m not…”

Ayla pinched his nose playfully. “I’ve known you since you were a troublemaking little boy. I know your tells, especially when you want something.”

“Does my father bring you flowers?” he asked, rubbing his nose. Ayla smiled up at the Prince.

“No, he never has.”

“Has he given you compliments of your endearing qualities?”

“Aside from our usual public banter or him belittling me at every chance he got?” Ayla smirked, keeping what Thranduil says to her in private…private. She patted his arm. “All I’m doing is giving you some motherly advice.” 

Legolas placed his hand over hers and looked at her. “You have always looked out for me and I will always be grateful.” 

“Well, I’m just relieved that you didn’t grow up to be a psychopath.” she laughed. Legolas chuckled and leaned down, kissing her cheek. She giggled up at him, touching his cheek affectionately before she stepped away from his side and began to walk off.

“So flowers, then?” he asked after her.

“It’s a good start.” she said over her shoulder. She continued walking, wandering around the maze of winding paths of wood and stone. Spring was approaching but the days still felt cold, and the forest remained quiet and still. It almost felt lonely but in its loneliness it maintained its eerie beauty. The smell of pine and dirt and ferns mixed with fresh rain brought back old, distant memories of a life that she could barely remember. A life she was ready to finally let go of in favor of the life she now lived…with the man she loved…

Yes…she was more than ready.

She thought back to that morning when Thranduil kissed her goodbye before he left to pay homage to the dwarves of Erebor for the discovery of the Arkenstone, and to continue their alliance, regardless of the strain between their people. Ayla had faith that without her going between the elves and dwarves, peace will continue. Peace had to continue. She had already seen more wars than she cared to admit, and she was tired of it all (not to mention all the traveling back and forth).

Peace had to continue.

She wasn’t one for praying but she prayed to whatever deity that was out there to hear her, because she hated the smell of death. She hated looking into empty eyes of the dead. She hated having her clothes and hands stained in blood. She hated the sounds of crying from the men and women who lay dying. She’s had enough of it.

“Ayla,” Kwenthrith called, approaching the woman. “You look absolutely listless.”

Ayla looked up at the blonde elf, gazing into her purple eyes. “Do I? Hmm, I guess I do. I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Nothing worrisome, I hope.” Kwenthrith said, giving her a wry smile. “Erebor is only a half-day ride from here. He’ll be back before you know it.”

“Wha—no, I wasn’t thinking…hmph. I’m just nervous, Thror was unstable when I last saw him and I’m concerned of just how fast his mind is slipping. Not to mention Thranduil isn’t the type for having a lot of patience.”

“Is there no treatment for it?” Kwenthrith asked.

“There is but unfortunately it’s unavailable here.” Ayla said as she walked with Kwenthrith. “Even then it’s a slim chance that medicine from where I come from can help.”

“Do you still miss it? The place you come from?”

“Strangely I haven’t thought about it in a long while.”

“Does that mean you have stopped your search for a way back?”

“I’ve already found my way back.” Ayla said, the words light and warm in her chest. Smiling, Kwenthrith hooked her arm with Ayla’s as they walked in good company.

xxxxx

(Past)

Pamela rolled with laughter as she threw down the invitation card on her desk. “This is the funniest shit you’ve brought to me yet! What are they thinking? Were they drunk when they mailed this?”

“Clearly it’s another attempt by Charlotte for rubbing it in my face after I broke her nose.” Ayla said, propping her feet up on Pamela’s desk. They were sitting in Pamela’s new office where Ayla presented the absurd invitation she received in her mailbox.

“So are you going to attend the monster’s wedding?” Pamela asked, still trying to reign in her laughter.

“Why the fuck would I want to attend?” Ayla asked, disgusted by the idea. The invitation came from her half-sister, inviting her to her upcoming wedding where she would marry Ayla’s ex-husband, Greg.

“Just think of the scandal! The gossip!” Pamela said dramatically, “Oooooh! At least go and take me with you! I want to be there and watch the shit show begin.”

“I’m sorry; did you forget that my bitch of a half-sister is part of the reason why I got divorced?”

“Oh please, Greg was a vein scumbag from the get-go. He’s a hack of a doctor, who has been riding on the coattails of his parents’ money. He’s a cheating, unreliable bastard who never deserved you in the first place. To be honest, I don’t even know what you saw in him to begin with.”

Ayla rolled her eyes. “He wasn’t always an asshole. Believe it or not I was very much in love with him once.”

_“Once_ —that’s the key word.”

“True. I guess our relationship soured after my first miscarriage.” 

Pamela seemed to have sobered up from her earlier mirth. “Soryn, you and Greg were having problems long before the miscarriage. Here’s the clear cut truth, your marriage fell apart not even six months after getting hitched and a year in you catch him in the act with that spoiled slut. And I say as revenge, you crash that bitch’s wedding and announce to all of her guests how she met her new husband.”

Ayla couldn’t resist but laugh, and was then joined by Pamela. “Well, when you put it that way maybe I should bring the girls with us.”

“I’ll message them.” Pamela grinned, grabbing her phone. “We should go out tonight. When was the last time you got laid?”

“Pam…”

xxxxx

(Present)

“She liked the flowers I gave her.” Legolas said, lying down on the chaise beside Ayla. He smiled at her, reminding Ayla of the cute little boy she remembered as she smiled back.

“Tell me about it, what did she say?” Ayla asked, eager for a distraction from her yearning heart. She was pathetic, feeling like a dog waiting for her master to come home so that she could wag her tail and jump around and bark in excitement. She seriously needed to get a hobby.

“She thanked me, saying it was a thoughtful gift.”

“And?”

“That’s all, there’s nothing more.”

Ayla sat up and twisted around to look down at Legolas. “That’s it? No romantic walk to get to know each other, no kiss on the hand with a promise of more?”

“N-no, I just gave her the flowers and then we parted.”

Ayla closed her eyes to keep herself from rolling her eyes. “Well, there’s always a next time.” she sighed, lying back down. “It’s not as if you’ll never see her again.”

“Then what do I do next time?”

“Oh for heaven’s sake—don’t you know anything about women?”

“If I did I wouldn’t have taken your advice about the flowers.”

“Obviously.”

“So…should I be expecting a new sibling soon?” Ayla smacked his arm and Legolas laughed. 

“You and Kwenthrith, I swear.” Ayla huffed as she shifted to lie on her side facing him, “The answer is no, so you can relax because you can continue your reign as being the only child.”

“Father truly loves you,” Legolas said, turning his head to look at her. “He’s loved you for a long time. Possibly before I even realized his feelings for you.”

“Hmm, what tipped you?”

“The way he looked at you whenever you were around showed it, and whenever you left he would become listless.”

Ayla snorted, “Listless? Thranduil? I find that hard to imagine.”

“It’s true, and I’m relieved that he has you.” 

Ayla smiled and moved down to snuggle against Legolas. “Tauriel is a lucky girl. Getting the attention from a handsome prince.” he chuckled, moving to situate his arm under her head. “I want to see you happy, too. Ah, I never thought I’d be giving dating advice to you. A part of me wishes you were still that little boy with the scraped up knees and bringing me toads from the river.” she gave a dramatic sigh. “You grew up too fast. Next thing I know you’re getting married and having children of your own.”

“I think I need to get better at courting first, otherwise I’ll never get to marriage and children.” They laughed together.

“Tauriel…she’s a Sylvan elf, right?”

“Yes, and you’re a human, right?”

“Questionable at this point, I’m gonna shelve that for a later date. So back to you, what does your father think about you going after Tauriel?”

“I don’t think he knows. Quite possibly he will voice his disapproval and give me that glare he’s so infamous for.”

“Mmm, I’ve been on the receiving end of that glare many a time. However I did build an immunity to it from constant exposure. Besides, you’re father can’t disapprove of you being with a Sylvan elf, I mean he and I are together and I’m not even an elf! He would be a hypocrite if he forbade you.”

“Perhaps.”

They laid in silence for a few breaths. “Who the fuck are we kidding, he’s gonna say no.”

Legolas let out a long sigh. “Yeah.”

xxxxx

Ayla welcomed Thranduil home from his journey back from Erebor, happy that he was back. Even if it had only been two days. Seeing him in armor and looking so regal and perfect—was it weird of her to be turned on by his shiny armor? Now that she thought about it, sleeping with a man in medieval-like armor has suddenly appeared on her bucket list. Dirty thoughts aside, Ayla missed him and she was going to show him just how much. Taking that back—dirty thoughts never left.

“Welcome home.” she said, seeing the affection in his eyes as he kept up his image as the King everyone knew him to be. They walked in through the gates together, his hand gently on her lower back. “So…how’d it go?”

“Terribly,” he replied.

“Okay, you’re gonna need to give me a little more than that. What happened?”

“Their greed has reached new heights. Those dwarves have gone back on their promise and refused to give me the heirlooms of my people.”

“Heirlooms? Why would dwarves have—never mind, I’m just glad you’re home.” Ayla said, smiling up at him. “So I’m guessing Thror’s mental state hasn’t gotten better?”

“No, and he even called me a backstabbing thief and a traitor to Erebor.” Ayla shook her head, but couldn’t help but think it a little funny. “He even said something about his grandson’s wounded pride, I stopped listening and simply left.” 

An image of Thorin flashed through her mind, the heartbreak in his eyes when she rejected his proposal. The bracelet on her wrist suddenly felt heavy, but she had to push all thoughts of him aside.

They arrived to their quarters and Thranduil opened the door to let Ayla enter first. “Let them deal with their mad king.” he said, closing the door behind him and turned Ayla around to ambush her with a searing kiss. Ayla immediately melted into the kiss, opening her mouth to him and standing on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck. In a flurry of desperate hands, Ayla helped Thranduil take off his armor even though he did most of the work, letting the metal fall to the floor while trying to keep their mouths together.

Before Ayla knew it she was pinned against the wall with her legs around Thranduil’s hips, her hands running over his smooth chest, shoulders and back. Thranduil had undone the buttons of her gown, the top part pulled off of her shoulders and bunched around her waist, his palms running along her bare back and up her thighs. Ayla gasped into his mouth when she felt him enter her without guidance, stretching her and filling her completely. Every thrust was slow, languid, and measured, meant to draw out the pleasure from the both of them as they looked into each other’s eyes.

Their breaths, the soft sighs and the slick sucking sound from their joined bodies intensified everything. The slow, even tempo gradually increased, the sighs becoming moans. His thrusts were coming in faster and harder and Ayla could do little else but bury her face into the side of his neck and hold onto his shoulders as she felt her first climax coming. His hot breath in her ear, coming in loud pants before she heard his beautiful voice, a shuttering moan escaping from deep within his throat as his body tensed up against hers. Their mouths found each other again as Thranduil gripped her thighs and carried her away from the wall and towards the bed where he set her down upon the silk sheets. He removed his boots and pants while Ayla pulled her wrinkled gown over her head before welcoming Thranduil into the embrace of her body.

It had only been two days without his touch but her body craved and ached for him, almost as if she couldn’t live without him. It was worse than any withdrawals she’s ever had and she had been through a few. He was better than any high she had ever experienced, everything about him was addicting. His touch, his kiss, his smell, his stare, the sound of his voice when they made love. And it was all hers and hers alone. If the world was coming to an end then this is where she would want to spend her last seconds, in his arms and looking into his stormy grey eyes.

The midday had turned to late afternoon, and the two of them were lying in bed in complete silence, no words needing to be said. Ayla was lounging back against the pillows with Thranduil lying against her with his head resting on her shoulder. She was drawing lazy circles on his chest with her fingers while he had a hand resting against her inner thigh.

“Your son has been teasing me, asking when he should be expecting a sibling.” Ayla said, feeling his hand on her thigh squeeze gently.

“Shall we work on giving him a time frame?” Thranduil asked, a slight smile on his lips. Ayla’s hand stopped their lazy trail along his chest as her brain seemed to have short-circuited. Did she hear correctly?

“Honestly, I’m terrified.”

Thrnaduil took her hand and kissed it. “Any child we have from our union will be in your image. They will be beautiful, strong, and sharp-tongued like their mother.”

“What if I can’t carry to full term?” That was her real fear. She’s had so many failed pregnancies and she worried that it was because she was just incapable of actually having children. She knew was had the capability of getting pregnant, the challenge was staying pregnant until giving birth.

“I understand your fears, _mui mel,_ but know that I will always be at your side.”

“Would you be fine with them being half-elf?”

“Only if you are their mother.”

xxxxx

(Past)

“I can’t believe you’re actually doing this.” Ayla said after injecting the hormone stimulation into Pamela’s ass inside her office, being an oncologist, Pamela had a way better office than Ayla. Of course Ayla’s office didn’t exist since she was a surgeon, maybe if she was head of the department, but she didn’t want that responsibility. That would mean more responsibilities and paperwork, which would make coming to work the next morning hungover harder than it already was on a normal basis. Besides, it also meant she didn’t have to deal with young interns screwing things up on her watch. 

“I said I wanted to do things my way and so I shall.” Pamela said defiantly, pulling her pants back up. “Besides, it’s just another week before they can extract my eggs.”

“Ugh! I said I’d be supportive and I’m keeping that promise to you but I draw the line if you want a water birth and ask me to be in the tub with you.” Ayla said, capping the syringe and placing it on Pamela’s desk.

“Oh please, I have no intention of doing something so mainstream.” Pamela said, “I’m gonna do what the celebrities do and have the baby cut out of me. I’d rather have a scar than ruin my vag.”

“You know, you could just do a series of ThermiVa treatments, Stacy says it rejuvenated her vaginal tissue and says it’s like she never gave birth.”

“What the fuck is ThermiVa?” Pamela scuffed as she walked around her desk to sit in her chair.

“She says it’s a safer alternative to surgery. Apparently her dermatologist offers the service. Plus, this doctor is actually good at his job. I’ve even gone to him a few times.”

“You? What for?”

“Oh, I had a funky mole on my ankle and it turned out to be an atypical nevus. The scar healed up remarkably well, I can barely see it now.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in dermatologists.”

“Well he’s not associated with my ex, plus he was a close friend of my dad’s.”

“Hmm, I’ll do some research before I consider it.”

“Do you need me to hold your hand when you go in to get your potential spawns extracted?”

Pamela smiled, “Yes, please.”

“Also I’d be more than happy to cut you open, it’ll be like reenacting the scene from _Alien.”_ Ayla said before she left the office. Ayla had to sigh as she walked down the hallway towards the other end of the hospital towards the Surgeons’ wing. Pamela was going through her plans of intravenous fertilization, another of her friends aiming for motherhood. Even Becky mentioned having her IUD taken out and said “we’ll see what happens.” Was Ayla the only one who felt like babies were not in her future?


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erebor is taken by an invading dragon and Ayla becomes the thing she hates the most.  
> Warning: this chapter is full of very bad soap opera drama

It was yet another busy day in Erebor and Ayla was currently on her way out of the impressive city to return home to the Woodland Realm. Back home to a certain Elvenking who always protested her leaving. And also to an elven prince whom she still spoiled with affection. Life was good. Ayla was happy and in love and felt like she finally found her place. Although…lately there had been a strain between her and Thranduil. Ever since they decided to actively try for a baby it felt as if the pressure was on them both and it was no more about the earth shattering romance and all about making sure she got pregnant. Ayla tried all the old tricks and even asked Kwenthrith about any tips about conceiving.

In truth Ayla had been trying to get pregnant for years and these past few years she began to suspect that she just might be infertile now. And it broke her heart to think that she will never have a baby with the man she loves.

Nearing the gates that will lead her out onto the road towards Dale she was stopped by Thorin who asked her to walk the ramparts with him before she left. Ayla obliged, even though she shouldn’t encourage anything between her and Thorin. They walked together across the ramparts that had a clear view of the road where traders travelled to and from Dale with their carts full of goods. 

“I wish you safe travel, My Lady.” Thorin said, resisting the urge to take her hand and kiss it. It didn’t go unnoticed that she wore the bracelet he made for her, and it made him happy to see her still wearing it. it just showed him that she held no ill feelings towards him and that their friendship was still intact. That was something, at least.

“Thank you.” Ayla said, smiling at him before her gaze returned to the city in the distance. It was unusually cold for mid-summer when yesterday the temperatures were almost sweltering. Maybe because they were so far north? Maybe it was because it was a cloudy day? Maybe both? There was also the sound of thunder in the distance. A storm was coming; maybe that’s why it was strangely cold today?

“I’m glad to see you wearing my gift.” Thorin said, reaching out to take her hand but stopped when he heard a roar in the distant. Turning to look out from the ramparts, he searched the sky until he saw it: the shadow in the clouds. “Dragon.” he breathed.

“What?” Ayla asked, not catching what Thorin said as she stepped up beside him, trying to see what he was seeing.

“DRAGON!” Thorin yelled but his warning was too late as the roar of the dragon drowned out his voice before spitting out a stream of flames. Thorin grabbed Ayla’s arm and roughly pulled her behind one of the stone columns, holding her close to him as the flames scorched everything around them. Ayla heard the screams and smelled burnt flesh. The heat from the flames were intense she felt her skin stinging from the proximity alone, singing the ends of her hair. Once the stream of fire ended Thorin was quick to move her off the ramparts just as the front gates were assaulted by the dragon, bursting through the heavy metal doors and solid stone.

More screams, more fire, more destruction.

It all made Ayla want to vomit.

“We have to get out!” Thorin said, pulling at Ayla’s arm by the elbow, leading her down the stairs that were cracking and crumbling beneath their feet. Ayla hadn’t seen so scared since she had been kidnapped by those orcs, but this type of fear wasn’t for herself but for the dwarves of Erebor. They have to evacuate. At the bottom of the stairs Thorin stopped Ayla, turning her around to face him. The floor beneath them was fractured and broken, and Thorin was standing on a slate that brought him up at eye level to her.

“What are you doing?” Ayla asked, turning away to look at the devastation that the dragon had left in its wake. “We have to get everybody out!”

“Ayla,” Thorin said, reaching out to her and taking hold of her shoulders, turning her back towards him. When Ayla turned and locked eyes with him he saw in her eyes fear. Fear for his people. Fear for him. Without a second thought he pulled Ayla to him and claimed her lips, kissing her with all the passion he felt for her. It was not the ideal setting he had fantasized for their first kiss, nor was it all he had hoped for, but it was still what he wanted: to finally touch his lips to hers, even if it was in the heat of the moment.

He could die happy to have kissed the woman he loves.

He slowly pulled and cupped her face in his hands, stroking her silky soft cheeks with the pads of his thumbs as he gazed into her warm brown eyes. She looked back at him in confusion and he thought: _How beautiful._ With a regretful smile he released her face.

“I love you.” he said before running past her further into Erebor. 

Ayla watched Thorin run deeper into the mountain and time around her felt like it was slowing down, the noise around her sounding far away. Everything faded away to black and white while Thorin glowed brightly in color and she felt ice in her stomach as fear settled in. She touched her lips with the tips of her fingers, still reeling about the kiss that had taken her by surprise. The move was bold in the face of immediate danger. And she treacherously felt a white hot spark. 

And that terrified her.

It terrified her more than facing the dragon that was presently terrifying the citizens of Erebor.

_Thorin._

“Thorin!” Ayla called out as time resumed back to normal around her and she remembered herself and where she was. Unfortunately she was stuck in a river of fleeing dwarves and the current was too strong for her to swim against and simply turned and flowed with everyone out through the main gates towards the burning city of Dale.

xxxxx

By nightfall Erebor and Dale were both lost, destroyed by the dragon, Smaug. As night fell, the survivors had camped at the edge of their destroyed city that still burned hot from the dragon’s breath. Many cried and mourned for the loss of lives and homes. Ayla helped as many injured as she could, the casualties just keep climbing with every passing second. Many of the healers that she had taught and trained herself in Dale had either been killed or severely injured, leaving her with just a handful who were simply too shell-shocked to function properly.

Ayla had looked to the hillside in the direction of Mirkwood, having seen Thranduil bringing his army but he had done something that shook her to her core: he turned his army away. He didn’t even offer aid in any way to the suffering people.

“Ayla, my friend...you’ve done enough…it’s too late for me.” Dagna said weakly from where she laid inside one of the tents. Her son, Thorin, at her side. The dwarven woman was looking up at Ayla through her one good eye while the other had been covered with a makeshift bandage, already blotted and stained.

“No—no it’s not too late! I can still save you! I can still…” Ayla covered her mouth as tears ran down her face, while in her chest she was seething with rage. The dragon was an unforeseen catastrophe, that she could forgive, but to be blindsided by Thranduil’s decision to not help the people—their allies…that she could _never_ forgive.

“Why did they not help us?” Thorin asked, his voice tight with anger while gently stroking his mother’s hand. He looked to Ayla, his eyes reflecting the anger within him. “You speak for the elves, why did they refuse to help us? Why did their King abandon us in our hour of need?!”

“Thorin…” Dagna said, reaching over with her other hand, wrapped in bandages that were wet from blood and fluid that leaked from ruptured blisters, and patted his hand. Thorin released his mother’s hand before he stood up and stormed out of the tent. “Forgive him... He’s still young and impulsive and does not understand.”

Impulsive…Ayla’s mind flashed to their kiss.

“I’m sorry,” Ayla said softly, choking back sobs as tears still fell down her cheeks. “I don’t…I don’t know how else to help.”

“Hush, you’ve done more for us than you realize.” Dagna said, reaching out and taking her hand, squeezing her stained fingers. “Ayla, he obviously knew that his army would fail. He spared his people from a senseless death.”

“He still should’ve at least stayed to help all of you.” Ayla’s throat tightened, still so angry with how things had turned out. She thought she knew him well enough that he would at least send aid for the aftermath, but obviously she was wrong. The man she thought she knew…the man she loved…her beautiful dream…she felt her stomach sour.

“You’re angry now, but one day you will be able to find forgiveness in your heart.” Dagna said. Ayla let out a sob that shook her body, her eyes hot and irritated from all the crying she’s done. “Please…I want nothing more than for you to be happy...go back…live…”

Ayla shook her head furiously, wiping her tears away with the backs of her dirty hands. She struggled to calm herself enough to speak. “Dagna…I won’t leave you like this. I won’t leave your people to suffer.”

“Mother of Mercy…they should have named you Mother of Stubbornness.” she said before coughing violently. “Please…get Thorin…”

Ayla left Dagna’s side and exited the tent, not needing to go far as Thorin had been right outside the tent. He reached out and took her hand, his eyes catching the glint from the bracelet he gave her. He didn’t look up at her as he simply kissed the back of her knuckles before going back inside to be at his dying mother’s side. Looking around, Ayla predicted that the majority of the injured would die that night.

She had been right.

She sat at the top of the hill away from the tents, wanting some time to herself after pronouncing her friend Dagna dead. She left the grieving family so that she could process her own grief. Her own disappointment in Thranduil. Not only was he seen by everyone fleeing the chaos, but he was also seen turning his back on them. 

_“My Lady,”_ she heard someone say in the elven tongue, but Ayla did not turn to see who it was. _“My Lord Thranduil has asked that you return home.”_

_“No.”_ Ayla replied.

_“Then I must take you home by force, My Lady.”_

_“No you won’t.”_

_“Forgive me.”_ he said, beginning to approach when Ayla suddenly stood up and whipped around to face him. The anger on her face stopping him in his tracks.

_“I will not go back just because the King says so! I will go back when I am ready to go back! And if you dare touch me, so help me I will make you regret this night for the rest of your fucking immortal life! You understand?!”_

The elven soldier was at a loss for words as he merely nodded his head and stepped back. It had been many years since Ayla lost her cool but today had been a trial on her nerves and self-control. She had cried herself to near dehydration and all she had left was her rage.

_“Go back and tell that man that he will have to wait until I am done helping the allies he abandoned. Go back. Now. And deliver my message.”_

She watched as the elven soldier mounted his horse and rode back towards the Woodland Realm. Once he disappeared into the night Ayla sat back down with a tired sigh, her shoulders sagging and her aching back hunching forward. Today had been a horrible day.

Thorin climbed the hill to where Ayla sat and sat down beside her. The young prince was aware of the closeness between his mother and Ayla, their friendship to be envied. He took her hand in his, her fingers cold from the night chill. Looking up at her in the moonlight, he could see the streaks on her cheeks where her tears had dried. He felt her grief but knew the pain she felt and the pain he felt were different. He lost his mother. She had lost her friend.

“My people will be leaving in the morning to the other dwarven kingdoms.” he said, “Come with me.”

“I’m sorry, Thorin, but I can’t.” Ayla said.

His thick fingers tightened slightly around her hand. “Ayla, I’m begging you. Come with me. Forget that traitor and be with me instead. I can take care of you.”

She closed her eyes and took a breath before opening them to look out at the many pyres that were burning the dead to prevent disease. “I’m sorry…I—” she was cut off by Thorin’s unexpected kiss. His chapped lips were warm against hers, the hairs of his full beard tickling her skin and her mind going blank as she was taken by surprise.

When he pulled away from the kiss Ayla sucked in a lungful of breath, remembering to breathe as she looked back at Thorin, staring into his blue eyes. It felt so right kissing him.

And it was wrong.

So very wrong.

She couldn’t allow this to continue.

She was not going to be the cheater.

She was not going to be unfaithful.

She was not…

Leaning forward she pressed her lips to his and he responded immediately. Her hands going to link behind his thick neck and pulling him to her as she felt his hands, large and hot press into her back as he pulled her close to him. When they finally parted an image of Thranduil flashed through Ayla’s mind and she immediately snapped back to her senses, shoving Thorin away from her as she jumped to her feet. 

“I’m sorry—I can’t!” she said in a rush before running back to the ruins of Dale.

This was bad.

But it felt so good.

Returning to her tent Ayla paced the small space, trying to calm her racing heart and trying (and failing!) to erase what had happened. She can still smell him, his scent was of leather and oil was musty and heady and oh so gritty that it made her weak in the knees and tingling between her legs. No! Nonononono! Very bad! She had Thranduil. She loved him. She loved him with all her heart…or does she? No, she definitely loves him and her actions tonight was because she was angry with Thranduil for abandoning everyone here.

Yeah, that’s right. She’s just acting out. 

Like a fucking teenager trying to be rebellious.

It was just a kiss. She didn’t go any further, kudos for her on that, and it will not go any further. 

“Ayla,” she heard Thorin’s voice and then the sound of the tent flap moving. She turned around to see him right as her candle burned out, casting the tent in darkness with only the orange glow from the pyres still burning outside.

_It will not go any further._

Ayla dropped heavily on the bed roll with a tired sigh. She was so tired right now and complications in her life was the last thing she wanted. And Thorin was that complication right now. She had to say something, make sure she stops this before it goes any further.

“Thorin, we can’t. We’re both grieving and it’s been a very stressful day and I don’t want to do anything that we’ll both regret.” Ayla said.

Thorin moved towards her and sat down on his knees in front of her. “Being with you is the one thing I will never regret. I love you with all my heart and I know you love me, too.”

“Thorin, please.” Ayla said softly, pleading with him to stop as she felt his hands sit heavy on her shoulders. With her sitting down he was at eye level with her and captured her lips with his, his thick hands massaging the balls of her shoulders. She pressed her hands firmly onto his chest and pushed him back, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. “We can’t.” she said weakly, her voice beginning to break.

“Thranduil abandoned all of us. He abandoned you. If that elf truly loved you and respected our alliance then he would have helped my people, but he didn’t. He turned his back on all of us.” Thorin said firmly, grabbing her wrists and gently pulling her hands up to his lips, kissing her palms before he pressed closer, moving to sit between her legs and run his hands up the length of her arms. He moved his hands down onto her waist, sliding them up and down slowly, feeling the length and curves of her sides. “But you stayed, even when there was no hope, you stayed. And that’s why I love you.” he whispered, his breath caressing hotly against her lips. He brought one of his hands up to cup the side of her face. “He is a fool to leave. Any man with eyes can see that you’re more than just a beautiful woman. You’re kind, courageous, intelligent, strong, and passionate. I would go to war with all of Middle Earth to prove my love and devotion to you.”

Ayla was flattered by his words and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t attracted to Thorin. She had always found his roguish looks to be a kind of sexy that related to the bad boy in the motorcycle gang in those trashy novels her friend Stacy loved to read. His bold touches gave her goosebumps and ignited a heat between her legs, making her ache for the forbidden, awakening the wild woman she used to be. The wild woman who did whatever made her feel good.

The woman she thought was dead because she had Thranduil.

Thranduil…

Ayla exhaled and she closed her eyes to shut out the world as her hands pushed off his heavy jacket from his broad shoulders and Thorin moved his arms to let it fall to the floor with a thud. She felt Thorin’s lips on hers again, hard and needy. She inhaled through her nose, taking in the smell of tanned leather and polishing oil. She slid her outer dress off, now only in her light tunic shirt and fitted trousers. Thorin sat back on his knees, helping her take off her boots and kissed her knees. He moved up her inner leg, kissing a trail up her clothed thigh, pausing for a second, flicking his eyes up to see her silhouette in the dark tent. A rush of heat went through him and he kissed her below her navel and continued to move up her body, his hands groping her waist and up under her breasts. He kissed a trail up her front until he reached her lips and kissed her again and heard her moan softly, sending electricity through his body. 

He gasped when he felt her hands slide under his shirt, running up his abdomen and her fingers combing through his chest hairs. He pulled his shirt off quickly and recaptured her lips with his as he pulled her shirt off and his hands roamed over her soft skin. It was too dark to see much of anything and he relied on touch, feeling her skin that was soft like silk, cool in contrast to his hot hands. Her stomach was flat and taut, her waist curving inwards and softly rounded out at the hips. Her breasts were pert yet soft like a pair of pillows, each being a perfect handful in his palms as he massaged them and squeezed them. He groaned and bent down, taking in a pearled nipple into his mouth and kneading the other with his hand. He sucked on the hardened pearl, swirling his tongue around it and giving it a gentle bite while he pinched the other. He heard her gasp and moan, her fingers tangling in his wild dark hair, her nails scraping against his scalp.

His pants became tight as his throbbing cock strained for release; his mouth and hands moving back down her body as his fingers hooked into the waistband of her pants and pulled them down. Ayla raised her hips to help him take her pants off easier, sliding the material down her legs until they were completely off. The cool air raised goosebumps on her exposed legs in contrast to Thorin’s hot touches. Thorin’s cock throbbed painfully as he lowered his head down to between her legs, his mouth eagerly tasting her. He heard her let out a soft cry as she fell back against the bedroll, his tongue delving into her, drinking her sweet nectar and sucking on her clit. Her hips lifted up and he pressed a hand firmly down on her pelvic, using his other hand and sliding a thick finger between her wet lips.

Ayla covered her mouth with one hand to muffle her voice. His tongue was amazing, driving her close to the edge that she had been craving. He assaulted her pearl of nerves while he moved his finger in and out of her slick folds, adding a second thick finger and already feeling how tight she was around his two digits. He could feel her writhe under his influence, her thighs tightening around his head as he squeezed in a third finger, stretching her inner walls and curving them upward. She bucked up into his mouth and let out a muffled cry of pleasure, her free hand in his hair pulling hard at the roots. It only heightened everything as he continued to feast between her legs until she was quivering from his stimulations, her inner walls convulsing and squeezing his fingers.

Unable to wait any longer he pulled out his fingers and pushed her legs apart as he sat up on his knees. He looked down at her splayed body, licking his wet fingers clean before quickly undoing his belt and dropping his pants, kicking them off as he hungrily watched her sillouette sit up. He kissed one knee and biting the skin as he moved up and repeated the same on the other leg, watching her with predatory eyes as he stroked himself, already rock hard and pulsing. He pushed her thighs apart with his knees and lowered himself over her, his face only going as far as her chest and pushed himself in her, releasing a throaty groan as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. The sensation of being inside her was heaven, the reality infinitely more amazing than his wildest fantasy.

It felt different with Thorin, his girth and length impressive for a dwarf, though he did not go as deep she felt him. Felt his every thrust. His every breath. Her mind going blank from the pleasure he brought her. He moved his hips, his palms sweaty and his heart racing as he looked at the beautiful creature beneath him. Her pert breasts bounced with every thrust he made, her moans loud and breathy as his thrusts became faster and wanton. He was quickly lost in the moment, their skin slapping against each other with no rhythm. He nearly lost his balance as he came hard, his face contorted in uncontained ecstasy before he collapsed atop her, breathing hard to catch his breath. His bearded cheek pressed between her breasts as her chest was rising and falling, her heart pounding away in his ear.

If he wasn’t in love before, he was completely in love now. Shamelessly he had taken advantage of the situation, both of them were raw from the turmoil that they had escaped, to top it off they had both lost people they loved and more. In the moment he was in heaven, but come morning he might be cast out and plummet into hell. She might become horrified by what they’ve done. Appalled even. She might even despise him for taking advantage of her, but that was a worry for the morning as he kissed the center of her chest and moved off of her to lie on his back. 

Ayla stared up at the tent ceiling, already disgusted with herself by what they had just done. She was weak-willed. She was just like her ex-husband: unfaithful and shameless. This had been a mistake that she could have stopped. This was a mistake Thranduil could never know about. Yet she wouldn’t lie to him. She had to tell him the truth, even if it will destroy everything. She was not going to keep this secret. She was not going to be like Greg, she was not going to live a lie. 

The truth will break Thranduil’s heart.

The truth was already breaking hers.

Ayla sat up and grabbed her clothes, hastily putting them back on without so much as looking back at Thorin or saying a word to him. 

“Ayla, don’t leave.” Thorin said, his voice soft. She heard him shift behind her and then felt him pressed against her back, warm and solid with his arms around her. He kissed her between her shoulder blades. “Please stay with me.”

“No. This was a mistake that can never happen again.” Ayla said firmly, pulling on her boots and lacing them up as quickly as she could. She was exhausted and full of guilt and regret and self-loathing and she couldn’t see the lacing of her boots and kept messing up. Frustrated she just shoved the laces into her boots and stood up, getting out of Thorin’s embrace. “Goodbye, Thorin.”

As a final act of proving to him that it truly was a mistake, Ayla took off her bracelet and threw it at Thorin. He watched her leave and felt his heart break at her rejection. He wanted to run after her but felt any strength he had leave his body.

Yet he still loved her in spite of it all.

xxxxx

Ayla made her journey to Mirkwood alone, on foot. Her mind reeling through the biggest mistake of her life. Twice she had to stop as she became overwhelmed and hyperventilated, struggling through her panic attacks. She also contemplated of simply not going back to Mirkwood and disappearing south or find a cave to hide in forever. She felt so stupid for giving in to temptation, for sleeping with Thorin. It had been hot and raw and spontaneous—it had been a reminder of what was missing between her and Thranduil—a spark of passion. This was a mess; a mess she had to clean up.

_You reap what you sew, Ayla._

Walking away from Thorin and throwing his gift back at him was a start. Facing Thranduil will be harder because she couldn’t walk away from him. She could only hope that he can somehow forgive her. Maybe call it even for abandoning their allies? No. That’s low, even for her.

Her world was falling apart.

xxxxx

When Ayla finally returned Thranduil had never seen her look so sullen. It was as if she had lost the will to continue fighting, her spirit broken from what she had gone through in Erebor and Dale. His heart went out to her; it truly did, knowing she was disappointed in him for his inaction to help their allies. He suspected that she would be furious with him but it did not deter him from reaching out to her, to hold her in his arms again, but she physically shrank away from him. Withdrawing from his touch and not meeting his eyes as she simply hurried away from him.

Her blatant rejection was telling enough: she was beyond approach right now. She will need time and some space, but that was a luxury Thranduil did not want to give. He was King after all.

xxxxx

Ayla had retreated to her old room, hiding away for three days, speaking to no one. Only Kwenthrith seemed to be the only one she would speak with, though their conversations were often short where Ayla would barely speak more than a few words at a time. The elf maiden knew there was more going on than just the attack from Smaug and she was determined to get to the root of Ayla’s inner turmoil.

“Ayla, I am your friend and I am worried about you.” Kwenthrith said; sitting on her knees at Ayla’s feet from where she sat at the small table, a plate of food going untouched (Kwenthrith had noted that Ayla was refusing to eat or drink). Kwenthrith took Ayla’s hands in hers. “Please, share with me. Tell me what is really going on with you. I am here for you.”

She saw tears welling up in Ayla’s eyes before spilling over, sliding down her pale cheeks. “I…I was unfaithful.” she said, her words were hushed but Kwenthrith was able to hear every word and felt her stomach drop at what had been said. Instantly Ayla burst into a sob, covering her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking from her sobbing.

Kwenthrith had no doubt of Ayla’s regret, seeing the woman had been punishing herself for straying into another’s arms. At the moment the reasons for Ayla betraying Thranduil was speculation, attributing to any reason: Thranduil turning his army away from helping their allies came to mind. There was also the stress of emotional and physical exhaustion. There was also the more common knowledge that things between Ayla and Thranduil had cooled significantly since their attempts at trying for a baby had been unsuccessful. Her heart ached for her friend, knowing there was nothing she can do but give her the comfort and support she obviously needed, and as hard as it will be, to also reveal the truth to Thranduil.

He just might forgive her due to his inaction with the dragon.

“Ayla, you have to tell him.” Kwenthrith said, gently pulling her hands away from her face, now red from her crying. “This secret is eating you up inside and it will only get worse the longer you keep it to yourself.”

She saw the hesitation and fear in Ayla’s anguished expression.

“Do not be like your former husband who had been unfaithful to you in secret. Do not allow Lord Thranduil to stumble upon this truth like you did in your previous relationship.” Kwenthrith said sternly.

“What secret?”

Both women jumped and looked to the door to see Thranduil standing there, his expression unreadable. Kwenthrith stood up quickly and faced him while Ayla remained seated, too frozen by dread to stand.

“Leave us.” Thranduil ordered and Kwenthrith bowed her head and headed towards the door, pausing long enough to look back at Ayla, willing her friend to have strength before leaving the room.

Thranduil slowly approached Ayla, taking the other seat at the small table. He took in her posture; her shoulders slumped forward, making her look smaller and frail. Her face and eyes were still red from crying and her hair hung loose around her shoulders, acting as a curtain to hide behind. Whatever secret Kwenthrith had spoken of was clearly big enough to cause Ayla so much misery and it worried him. It was obviously a secret he was not going to like.

He liked it even less knowing that Kwenthrith knew before him.

“Ayla,” he began, his tone a little softer as he tried to get her attention. “What secret did Kwenthrith speak of?”

Ayla turned her face away from him, trying to control her tears as she sniffed back her running nose. She was terrified to tell him, but Kwenthrith was right, she didn’t want to repeat the cycle of her previous marriage with Greg. She didn’t want to keep this secret hoping it will never be known. But she didn’t want to lose him. She still loved him deeply.

“Ayla, look at me.”

She did, turning her face to look at him.

“Tell me.”

“I…” her mouth was dry and her stomach tightened with anxiety. “…I slept with Thorin.” Ayla couldn’t keep looking at him, too ashamed of what she had done.

Thranduil felt as if he had been plunged into glacier cold water, gripping his heart and squeezing it tightly without mercy. He was angry. Very angry. If he didn’t like that dwarf before he absolutely loathed him now. He was also hurt and betrayed that Ayla had been unfaithful, and even though he can see that she was remorseful of her actions it still didn’t take away the impact of what she’s done. She had betrayed his trust.

But then again, so had he.

But…

“How could you?” he asked, feeling his heart break.

Ayla choked on a sob, covering her mouth with shaking hands to muffle her crying. She couldn’t speak, her throat seizing through the sobs that wracked her body again. She didn’t see Thranduil rise up from his seat until he was suddenly in front of her, gripping her upper arms tightly and forcing her up to her feet. She looked up at him through her wet lashes, seeing the hurt and anger on his beautiful face; his grey eyes searching her face for an answer.

“Tell me! How could you?!” he demanded, shaking her firmly.

Her mouth flapped open and closed, trying to form the words but nothing came to mind. She couldn’t even think, too panicked and scared that she’ll say the wrong thing. He had never been physical with her whenever he was angry or upset, but she felt that if he did hit her it was well deserved for what she’s done. She became the thing she vowed to never become: a cheater.

“I’m sorry.” she wept, more hot tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Why would you do this to me? Were you angry with me? Was it for revenge?” Thranduil was shouting at her now as he shook her body roughly. Ayla denied his accusations through her tears. His grip on her only tightening as he grew angrier, becoming blinded by the hurt and rage. “Was my love for you not enough?”

“It was enough!” Ayla cried, “It still is!”

“Then why?!” he yelled, shaking her again.

_Because I’m weak. Because I wanted it. Because I’m a terrible, selfish person deep down._ Her throat was tight, keeping her from speaking.

“Tell me how you could simply lay with that dwarf?! Harlot!” he yelled releasing her and before he could stop himself he backhanded her across the face. Ayla’s head snapped to the right and the force of his hit knocked her off her feet and she fell onto her side.

_“Naneth!”_

The sound of Legolas’ voice snapped Thranduil back and he stared wide eyed at Ayla on the floor, where Legolas had ran to her side and dropped to his knees, helping her sit up. Ayla brought a shaking hand up to her cheek and touched it gingerly, wincing at the pain as she pulled her hand in front of her view to see blood on her fingertips. One of Thranduil’s rings had cut her cheek and he felt his stomach sour at the sight.

_“Ada,_ what are you doing?” Legolas asked, turning his blue eyes onto his father, confused as to why his father would strike his mother. He could see that his father was equally stunned by his actions. Legolas turned his attention back on Ayla, seeing the bleed on her cheek still dripping from the wound. 

Thranduil turned away and left the room, holding onto what little pride he had left before he caused a larger rift. He hadn’t meant to hit her, he just wanted to know why she betrayed him but he had been so angry—he was still angry—and he lost control of his temper and lashed out at her. He was ashamed of how he handled the truth. In hindsight he knew Ayla regretted what she had done and she had been forthcoming of what she did, the tears and her unwillingness to be near him was all because she felt guilty about it. On top of that she returned when she could have simply ran away and allowed her regrets and guilt to eat away at her. He recalled the untouched plate of food; she had been punishing herself by starving herself.

He stopped abruptly in the corridor as a thought occurred to him: did she want him to hit her like he did? Was she seeking punishment for sleeping with another man? And he did hit her; he hit her hard enough to cut her cheek with his ring. Looking down at the back of his hand he saw her blood smeared on the knuckles. He was disgusted with himself. He allowed his anger to cloud his judgment.

_“Ada,_ what happened? Why would you strike at _naneth_ like that?” Legolas asked as he caught up to Thranduil. Looking at his son he could see the anger written clearly on his face, ready to defend Ayla. It was clear that she did not tell him and as much as he wanted to keep it just between him and Ayla he once more found himself unable to stop.

“She is not your _naneth._ That woman is a whore who sleeps with dwarves behind my back.” he said, his words venomous and cold. It had not been the words he wanted to say but then again, he was angry and hurt, and lashing out right now helped him vent, but he knew that what he said had been a poor choice. Legolas looked stunned and in disbelief, and Thranduil was in no mood to explain further as he turned and continued on his path to put as much distance between himself and Ayla. He didn’t trust himself around her right now; he feared he would do something worse than slap her next time.

xxxxx

After he had time to cool off Thranduil was able to calmly think things through. He had to commend Ayla for telling him the truth, regardless of how awful it is. He just never suspected their relationship had been in trouble until now. Thinking back on the last decade at least their struggle to conceive had become a dark cloud hanging over their heads, and he never stopped to consider Ayla’s feelings, never thinking that perhaps she had been under a lot of pressure. They had not made it secret that they were trying and the expectation and anticipation for their announcement had obviously been weighing on her.

They also had argued the night before she had left. She accused him of suffocating her by keeping her locked up and refusing her to traverse between their home and Erebor. Did his good intentions of wanting to keep her safe simply drove her off and into another man’s arms? Was it only the one time or were her visits to Erebor was because she and Thorin had been established as lovers long before Smaug attacked? No, her tears and admission indicated that it had only been the one time. Yet he knew that he was part of the blame for her infidelity, but it didn’t excuse her actions.

This was all too upsetting and he felt it was best to speak to Ayla in a calmer fashion. He also needed to apologize for hitting her.

xxxxx

After Thranduil had rushed out of her room Legolas had helped Ayla to her bed, but didn’t know what to do about her cheek that continued to bleed. Ayla didn’t seem to register much after Thranduil had left, not noticing that Legolas had left and Kwenthrith had returned with a tray to tend to her wound. It was a surprise to Kwenthrith to see that Ayla’s wound wasn’t healing like it normally did and the elf maiden had to wonder if it had something to do with Ayla’s mental and emotional state. And Kwenthrith could only guess that it had to do with Ayla’s broken heart.

Kwenthrith did her best in tending to Ayla’s wound, managing to clean the blood and stop the bleeding. After applying ointment onto the wound Kwenthrith managed to get Ayla to drink a little bit of water and tried to get her to eat a bit of food. Kwenthrith then helped Ayla change into her nightgown and then into bed to get some much needed rest. She stayed with Ayla, seeing that her friend was suffering more now that the truth was revealed and Kwenthrith’s heart ached for her.

She looked to the door when she heard it open and saw Thranduil entering the room. Kwenthrith stood up from where she sat, her jaw clenching as she looked from where Ayla laid resting to her King.

“Leave us.” Thranduil ordered, and when he saw Kwenthrith hesitating he added, “Please.”

Kwenthrith hesitated another second before nodding and picking up her tray of first aid and left the room. Thranduil closed the door softly after the woman before walking over to the bed where Ayla laid beneath the covers. His heart clenched when he saw the wound on her cheek, the wound he inflicted on her. But it should have been completely healed by now. Was it because he gave her the wound? Was that the reason why it wouldn’t heal?

He brought one of the chairs from the small table over to the side of the bed and sat down in it, watching her sleep. Or at least pretending to sleep.

“I know you’re awake.” he said, and watched as Ayla opened her eyes and sat up. She didn’t look at her, choosing to focus on her lap. “Will you tell me why you betrayed me the way you did?”

“Will you?” she asked quietly, throwing his question back at him. “Why did you turn your army away?”

“It would have been a pointless slaughter for my people.”

“But you could have stayed to help those people.”

“It would have invited further chaos at our doorstep with refugees that we cannot sustain.”

“You still could have provided aid to them. Do you have any idea how many people had died? How many times I had to tell someone that their loved ones are dead?” she asked, turning her head to look at him. “When I left people were still digging out bodies from the rubble. _My friends_ have lost their lives and their homes. I worked tirelessly to help as many people as I could, and that was emotionally draining. At least I didn’t abandon them in their time of need.”

“Of course, you simply stayed long enough to lay with another man to spite me.” Thranduil said bitterly.

Ayla bristled at his words, her hands clenching in her lap. “Yes, I slept with another man, and I’m not going to lie and say that I didn’t enjoy it.” Thranduil clenched his jaw at that. “But when it was over all I could think about was you, and how much I had messed up. And I could have said nothing to you and kept it a secret, but I didn’t want to lie to you because I love you.”

She was right, she could have said nothing and he would never have known, but she did tell him and it put him to shame. 

“Your wound did not heal.” he said softly, wishing to reach out and stroke her injured cheek but he resisted the urge.

“My heart is broken.” she said, and his heart clenched at her words.

“I’m sorry for hitting you. I should never have lost my temper the way I did.” Thranduil said.

Ayla nodded once in acknowledgement of his apology, looking back down at her lap. “I’d like to be alone right now.”

Thranduil stood up and quietly left, his heart heavier than when he arrived. He knew it would take a great deal of time for the two of them to heal and work things out, but he was unsure if he could ever trust Ayla again. 

But he would never know because the next morning, Ayla was gone.

xxxxx

Several years had gone by and Ayla travelled through small villages, helping the sick and injured and falling back into her old routine. She never stayed in one place for too long, a week would be the limit before she would leave. She had journeyed as far as the Northern Mountains where the Rangers resided, meeting a group of them led by a man named Arathorn whom she befriended. She stayed with the Rangers for a time, even teaching them basic first aid and how to utilize what they had as last minute tools. She travelled with them to the Blue Mountains where they then parted ways and Ayla had gone to see the dwarves in hopes of seeing familiar faces.

She did.

She saw many familiar faces and many more new faces. Ayla was relieved to be a welcomed guest, having feared that they would resent her because of her association with Thranduil, but they held no such grudges. 

“Ayla!” came a feminine voice when Ayla entered the grand dining hall. Ayla looked up and immediately felt a wide grin spread across her face at the sight of an old friend she had feared perished in Erebor. 

“Dis!” Ayla called back, running up to the dwarven woman. She bent down and hugged her tightly, overjoyed to see her friend. When she pulled back from the hug Ayla noticed two small faces peeking out from behind Dis. Ayla looked at Dis’ face and then down at the two smaller faces. “Dis, you’re a mother?”

Dis gave her a toothy grin. “I am. Meet my sons, Fili and Kili.”

Ayla lowered down to her knees, smiling warmly at the two boys who were obviously a few years apart. Fili had golden hair and a long nose that she was sure he would one day grow into, while Kili had dark hair like his mother. “Hello.” she greeted.

“Boys, this is my very good friend, Ayla. Remember the stories of the Mother of Mercy? This is her.” Dis said.

Fili, who was the oldest, was also rather shy and hid behind his mother’s skirt while Kili, who was just a toddler waddled up to Ayla with his arms up to her. Ayla giggled as she picked up the boy in her arms and hugged him close. Dwarven children were absolutely adorable and Ayla couldn’t help but compare them to cabbage patch kids dolls she used to have as a child, especially when they were as small as Kili. Seeing his brother finding nothing to fear, Fili quickly joined him, going up to Ayla who scooped him up in her other arm.

“Oh my goodness! You two are just so adorable!” Ayla exclaimed, hugging them tightly to her. “Oh, Dis, I’m so happy for you.”

Dis laughed as she took Kili in her arms while Ayla continued to hold Fili (since compared to her size he was no bigger than a two year old human), and led her towards the head of the table where Ayla paused and felt her stomach drop. She had suspected that she would run into him, but she had hoped that she wouldn’t. Fate truly seemed to enjoy giving her the middle finger. 

“Sit here next to me.” Dis said, as another dwarf pulled out the chair for Ayla. Taking the offered seat, Ayla suddenly felt very awkward sitting at the table. She looked diagonally to her right to see Thorin staring at her and she felt trapped under his piercing gaze.

“Are you magic?” Fili suddenly asked, blessedly distracting Ayla as she looked down at him.

“Fili, honestly!” Dis sighed.

“It’s all right, Dis.” Ayla said as she smiled down at Fili, seeing that he inherited the eyes that all of Durin’s Folk seem to have. “I am not magic, just human.”

“But ma says you is.” Fili said.

Ayla giggled lightly as she glanced at Dis who just shrugged. “And what else did your ma say about me?”

“Ma says you help people.” Fili said.

“That’s right; I help people when they are sick or hurt.” Ayla replied.

Fili continued his endless stream of questions until Dis told him to eat. “What brings you here, Ayla?” Dis asked before taking a bite of her roast.

“I am merely passing through. I had been travelling for a bit with the Rangers of the Northern Mountains. They were kind enough to escort me here.” Ayla said.

“One would think you had run back to your elven lover.” Thorin spoke gruffly, not bothering to look up from his plate. “Hiding away from the world with his kin like cowards.”

“Thorin!” Dis said sharply at her brother.

“It’s fine, Dis.” Ayla said, even though she was bristling on the inside. “He is entitled to his anger. As are the rest of your people.”

“Nobody here resents you, Ayla.” Dis said, putting her hand on Ayla’s forearm.

“You’d be surprised.”

xxxxx

That night after dinner Ayla was shown to her room by Dis. She had been given one of the royal guest suites, which was far too large and lavish. She always wondered why dwarves felt compelled to have such large living space for being of short stature. Regardless, at least the dwarves were brilliant engineers and had indoor plumbing which meant she was able to draw a nice hot bath for herself. The tub was deep and wide and large enough that she could stretch her legs out. The hot water soothed her aching muscles and the bath salts the dwarves used made her skin soft.

As she soaked, she thought of Thorin and the look he had when he saw her. He didn’t look angry (though she was sure he was after how she cruelly left him), he looked…she didn’t know how to describe how he looked. It was definitely complex, and there was definitely buried hurt beneath the surface. Hurt that she caused. Maybe coming here had been a bad decision. With a heavy sigh she reached for the drain plug and pulled it out before standing up from the water and getting out of the tub.

After she dried herself and pulled on a nightgown Dis had given her (which reached just above her knees when on a dwarf it would reach their toes), luckily the nightgown had no sleeves and the neckline wasn’t too low. On top of that it was also lucky that dwarven and human anatomy weren’t too different, the dwarves merely had shorter limbs. Ayla walked to the mirror and stood in front of it, taking in her reflection and seeing that she had lost weight again from all her travelling. Her left cheek had healed ages ago, but it certainly had taken a long time to heal. She did her best not to remember the day she got the wound. 

A knock came at her door then and Ayla hesitated a moment before verbalizing to enter. She turned towards the door, her stomach sinking when she saw that it was Thorin as he closed the door behind him. He paused when he saw Ayla standing in the middle of her room, dressed only in her nightgown that clearly was too short for her tall stature. Her exposed legs and arms revealed how pale and smooth her skin was and Thorin remembered all too well as his fingers twitched at his sides, craving to touch her. She was still beautiful, and his body ached to embrace her again, and his heart still pounded rapidly at the very sight of her.

Because he still loved her even though she ripped his heart out.

Ayla attempted to cover herself with her arms, though it was a feeble attempt. “Thorin, what are you doing here?” she asked, still feeling a little awkward to meet his eyes.

“Is it not obvious?” he asked softly.

She closed her eyes as she attempted to control the blush that was creeping up her cheeks. “Please leave, Thorin.”

“No, there was too much left unsaid that night.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him, feeling a spark of frustration igniting within her chest. “I thought I made it clear.”

“You did,” he said, beginning to take steps towards her. “You made it painfully clear.”

“Then what else is there to say?” Ayla asked, unable to help but take a step back with every step forward Thorin made until the back of her legs hit the bed.

Thorin stopped just an arm’s reach away from her and looked up at her, his eyes showing so much emotion that it pulled at her heart. “You ripped my heart out that night, when I exposed it so openly to you. And I know why you did that. You were aiming to hurt me, to make me hate you, and it worked. I held onto my bitterness, resenting you for going back to that traitor, thinking I will never see you again. I was sure that I had buried all my feelings for you until I saw you again tonight and it all came rushing back to me; and I realized all too keenly that my heart still belongs to you.”

Thorin reached into his front pocket and held up the bracelet Ayla had thrown away. Ayla sucked in a sharp breath and felt her strength drain from her as she sank onto the bed, tears stinging her eyes and threatening to spill. Then a bitter laugh escaped her.

“After everything I said and did…you’re such an idiot.” Ayla said; turning her face away from him as the tears she was trying to hold back fell down her cheeks.

“Yes, I suppose I am.” Thorin said softly, reaching out and cupping Ayla’s cheek, turning her head back towards him. He carefully swiped his thumb over her cheekbone, wiping away the tears as he looked into her brown eyes that still held in so much pain and regret. “I find that when it comes to you I am too quick to forgive. I forgive you, Ayla, and I also apologize for taking advantage of you that night.”

“Don’t apologize,” she said, gently removing his hands from her face. “I used you that night because I was hurting.”

Thorin moved to sit beside her, resisting the urge to take her hand in his, afraid of her pulling away from him. “What happened after you left? Did you go back to him?”

“I did.”

“Did he find out about what we did?”

“Yes…I told him.”

He looked at her in shock. “What? Why would you tell him?”

“Because I didn’t want to lie to him.” Ayla said, “Did you know that I was married before?”

“No, I did not.”

“My previous husband was having an affair with my half-sister and walked in on them, catching them in the act. The timing of it all had been unfortunate because I had also just lost my child the day before, a child that only had a few months left before I would have given birth. I held onto that scar for many, many years. It’s the reason why I had closed myself off for so long, because I couldn’t bring myself to trust anyone. Thranduil…he was the first man I ever allowed myself to open up to. To completely trust. Then I broke that trust with you, turning into the one thing that had caused all my pain in the past.”

Thorin swallowed, his throat dry all of a sudden. “I’m sorry.”

“I left because I couldn’t handle the guilt. Like you, I’ve lost my home.” Ayla said, turning her head to look at him. Thorin looked back at her, noticing how sitting next to each other put them at eye level with each other.

“You are welcome to call these halls your home.” Thorin said.

“Do you think of this place as your home, Thorin?”

Her question gave Thorin pause as he thought back to that horrible day and the months that followed while he and people wandered aimlessly through the lands, homeless and without hope. He then remembered his vow to take back the mountain from that fire drake and reclaim his rightful place. He looked into Ayla’s brown eyes and imagined her wearing a gown of fine silk adorned with sparkling gems that would make the stars in the heaven burn with envy.

“I will reclaim my homeland one day soon.”


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayla lives with the dwarves and uses Thorin as a rebound, unfortunately she discovers that mental illness runs deep in the line of Durin and she questions whether her presence is the cause of it.

Thorin had a smile on his face as he watched Ayla entertain his nephews with stories of her travels. Nearly a month had passed since Ayla arrived, and already his two nephews adored her, preferring her company over his. Like the spoiled children they are, they cried and fussed whenever Thorin interrupted their time with Ayla whom Dis had named their godmother, and the boys took it to heart. Seeing Ayla smile at his nephews pulled at his heart as he would then remember what she had told him that first night he entered her room, how her own child had died inside her womb. He simply couldn’t fathom the agony she had suffered and he admired her strength to live on and smile once more.

“Tell us another story!” Fili said right before yawning widely.

“I think it’s time for bed instead.” Ayla said.

“Nooo! Another story!” Fili insisted while his brother Kili yawned widely and fell backwards, falling asleep immediately.

“There will be plenty of times for stories tomorrow.” Dis said, stepping past her brother and picking up Kili from the floor. She took Fili’s hand with her free hand and led the way to their shared bedroom.

“Good night,” Ayla said after them.

“G’night, auntie.” Fili said over his shoulder.

With a smile Ayla stood up and turned towards the door to leave, stopping when she saw Thorin leaning against the wall, watching her.

“I’ll be heading back to my room. Good night, Thorin.” Ayla said, heading towards the exit.

“I’ll walk with you.” Thorin said and Ayla nodded, knowing he would just be stubborn if she declined. It was a short walk to her suite, and they were both quiet as they reached her door. As she opened the door to go inside for the night Thorin reached out and took her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “When I see you with my nephews it warms my heart. They love you like a second mother and you treat them like they are your blood.”

“Thorin, don’t. It’s late and I’m tired.” Ayla said, having a suspicion as to where this conversation was going as she pulled her hand from his. She reached for the door and opened it, stepping inside her room. Thorin caught the door and followed, closing it shut behind him.

“You know how I feel and what I want, and I understand why you hesitate but there is nothing standing between us now. You are free to be with someone. You are free to be with me.” Thorin said.

Ayla rolled her eyes as she walked away further into her suite, going into the walk-in closet to change into her nightgown. She was tired of this conversation, and Thorin was as hard-headed as ever. She knew he wanted to make things official and have them be a couple but she had trouble with that idea. Yes, she was attracted to Thorin, he was still that sexy, brooding man that made her think of very kinky fantasies, and yes, she still thought of that night together with him that made her ache between her legs. It was true that she was a free woman, but her heart was still healing and she was having trouble letting go of Thranduil. Their relationship spanned nearly a thousand years and she still loved him despite the way things had ended (ended by her leaving in the middle of the night without so much as a note).

She wasn’t ready and she felt like she might never be ready to move on.

When she came out of the closet, dressed in her nightgown, she found Thorin had not left and instead had taken off his jacket and sat at the foot of her bed, waiting for her. “I know I am being selfish with you, but I need to know: will you ever accept me in your heart?”

Ayla walked over to the bed and sat down beside Thorin, having a sense of déjà vu from her first night. “You hold a special place in my heart, Thorin, you always have, but I’m too damaged to be happy with you.”

Her words stung but Thorin was determined as he stood up and faced her. “You can be happy with me if you would just give me a chance. Open your heart again, Ayla, and let me in.”

Shit, this was getting old. She actually wanted to say _“Yeah, okay, let’s do it your way and I’ll pretend that I’ve moved on from a certain Elvenking who will not be named.”_ just to make him stop talking about “them” when there wasn’t even a “them” yet. What could she say that will both placate him and also make him give her space?

“I will think about it. Now please get out.”

xxxxx

Weeks rolled by and Ayla felt the need to be more productive while she stayed in the Blue Mountains. Avoiding and minimizing her encounters with Thorin were a lot easier than Ayla thought, but when she did it was easy to evade him. Ayla was actually considering Thorin’s offer of moving on, but she didn’t know how and she didn’t want to make Thorin a rebound. So instead of torturing herself over the thought, she made herself busy by taking over of the infirmary (of course dwarves were rather stubborn to admit that they were sick until they were on the verge of death). She needed to start with the basics.

Ayla wandered through the impressive library, her fingers skimming over the spines of books. All were written in the dwarven tongue, of which Ayla had learned to read centuries ago, though her translation still needed work. Their language always felt heavy on her tongue versus the Sindarin language that flowed off the tongue like water. She noticed that there were hardly any medical books and the ones that were present were, in her opinion, poorly written with no pictures. She figured she could rewrite her medical volumes in the dwarven language since her original books were back in the Woodland Realm where she doubted she would ever set foot in again.

She took the few books on medicine that she could find and set to work in going through them, editing every single page. She made a mental note to get a freshly bound book made so she can start logging everything again. Hours went by and consumed by her new project she didn’t notice Thorin walking towards her. Thorin stopped at the edge of an aisle of stone shelves, admiring Ayla’s beauty when she was concentrating. Her hair had been pulled and twisted into a bun and held in place by a plain silver hair pin, loose tendrils of hair hanging around her neck and the sides of her face. The dress she wore had been tailored to her size; something his sister had done, always having a knack for sewing. It was dyed a deep blue like the ocean, with a modest neckline that showed off just enough skin below her collarbone. The sleeves reached to her elbows and her skirt came to her ankles.

At first glance she was dressed rather plainly, but to Thorin it was merely a blank canvas for when he will decorate her with jewels and gold fit for a queen. His queen. If only she would say yes. He approached her, clearing his throat to make his presence known, but Ayla remained focused on defiling his people’s books by writing on the pages. He went to her side, brushing back the few stray tendrils of her silky hair and brushing her bare neck with the back of his knuckles. His touch startled her and her quill streaked a line of black ink across the page she had been working on as she sharply looked up at him. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the surprised look on her face.

“Thorin! You scared me half to death!” Ayla exclaimed.

“Well, then your other half should live a bit more.” Thorin teased, boldly stroking the length of her neck with the back of his knuckles, pleased to her shiver before leaning back against the edge of the table beside her. “So tell me why you are defiling my books.”

Ayla set the quill down and looked up at him, giving him a teasing glimpse of her cleavage. “The medical books you have are seriously outdated. I’m planning on writing more modern books on medicine and medical practice, you know, something that will withstand time.”

He smiled at her. “It pleases me to see that you’re hard at work to help my people.” he said, “It’s a good quality that my future wife should have.”

Ayla rolled her eyes, “Oh for fuck’s sake. We’re not having this conversation again, Thorin.” she said, bracing her hands on the table to push her chair back. Thorin pushed her roughly back in her seat as he slid in front of her, half-sitting on the table. “Hey! What are you—?!” Ayla was cut off when Thorin had gripped the back of her head with his large hand and pulled her forward, his lips on hers cutting her off mid-sentence.

Her eyes fluttered closed at the kiss, Thorin’s lips warm and demanding against hers. It was a kiss that enthralled her, letting her melt into it as she felt his tongue invade her mouth and she allowed it. Her hands went up his thighs, feeling the toned, strong muscles beneath the thick fabric of his fine wool trousers. When they parted from their kiss, Ayla looked up into Thorin’s eyes, seeing them glazed with lust and want and Ayla was sure that her eyes reflected the same desires. Desires that she needed to resist. Desires that she’s been ignoring for too long.

She had needs that needed to be satisfied.

Thorin cupped her face with his free hand, his eyes going to her lips that were now a darker shade of pink after their kiss. He lowered his head and kissed her again, gentler this time, savoring the sensation of how soft her lips were against his, how her natural scent reminded him of the crisp mountain air and spring flowers. Her skin was smooth and warm beneath his callused fingers, and her hair was like silk. He pulled out the silver hair pin and buried his fingers into the dark curtain of silky hair. He felt her hands slide up from his thighs and over his stomach and up his chest, going higher to rest behind his neck to pull him closer, deepening the kiss.

Thorin broke away from the kiss as he pulled Ayla up from her chair and spun them around, pushing her down on the table’s surface and moved to stand between her legs as he kissed and sucked on the skin of her neck. Ayla let out a moan, hugging his shoulders and raking her fingers through his thick hair on his head. He cupped and massaged one of her breasts, familiarizing himself with their soft fullness in his hand, his thumbing rubbing over her nipple through her clothing, hardening it into a firm peak. His other hand was resting on her hip, massaging the flesh in his hand while he pressed his hardening cock against her heated mound.

“Ah! Thorin!” she gasped, the sound of her voice so sweet in his ears, driving him wild.

Thorin couldn’t hold back as he hastily loosened his belt and lowered his trousers while he watched as Ayla pulled up her skirt. He was rock hard now, and Ayla was now able to see his cock in all its glory. She had been right to think that he was well endowed for a dwarf; if he were human he’d be considered slightly above average. And she was more than all right with that as she looked Thorin in the eye and grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him forward, their lips crashing into each other as Thorin guided himself to her entrance and pushed in. Both let out an audible moan into each other’s mouths.

“Start moving.” Ayla breathed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Thorin complied, pulling back to the head and then slowly pushing back in, repeating the slow, agonizing pace over and over again. Ayla rolled her head back, exposing her neck to him which he graciously accepted, laving at the skin with the flat of his tongue and then scraping at the flesh with his teeth.

Ayla wrapped her legs around his hips, hooking her ankles together to pull him deeper inside her. Thorin unhooked her ankles from his back and pulled her up and turned her around, pushing her over the table and yanking her skirt up. Ayla bent her knees to lower her hips down and bit down on her bottom lip as she felt Thorin enter her from behind, thrusting harder and faster as he gripped her hips tightly for purchase. 

“You’re so tight.” Thorin said, his thrusts turning shallower as his pelvis slapped into her round buttocks that he couldn’t help but slap one cheek with the flat of his hand, earning a surprised yelp from Ayla. Grinning he slapped her other cheek and Ayla mewled, her inner walls tightening around him. With a few more thrusts Thorin was bent over Ayla’s back, his hips jerking forward as he came inside her, spilling everything he had. 

Thorin pulled out slowly, staring at the red imprints on Ayla’s round buttocks and felt his cock stir at the sight. Ayla pushed her skirt down to cover herself and turned around, leaning back against the table as she combed her hand through her hair, sweeping it out of her face that was flushed pink from their activity. She smirked at him, sending a rush throughout his body until he realized that her smirking was due to the fact that his pants were still around his ankles. He quickly pulled them up and looked around for his belt.

This was exactly what she needed, and she figured there was no harm in round two. Ayla glanced down and saw his belt at her feet and picked it up for him, clearing her throat to get his attention. Thorin looked back at her, seeing his belt in her hand. He took it from her and fastened it on his hips to secure his pants while Ayla gathered the medical books into a stack.

“Let me carry those for you.” Thorin offered, taking the stack of books.

Ayla was still smirking, “Well aren’t you sweet.” Ayla stood up and crooked her finger at him to follow. She led him out of the library and through the stone halls towards the living quarters, passing by other dwarves who stared curiously at their prince, carrying a stack of books and following behind Ayla. Thorin could care less about what his people thought of him at that moment because he was feeling weightless and light, trailing behind the woman he loved. When they entered her suite Thorin set the books down on a sideboard table, his eyes following Ayla. He watched as she stopped by the bed and looked over her shoulder at him.

On impulse he walked towards her as if in a trance. He walked all the way to her, stopping in front of her as Ayla bent forward and kissed him tenderly on the lips while her hands were at work, untying Thorin’s belt from his hips. He felt his pants loosen at his hips, threatening to slide down his legs when suddenly Ayla shoved him hard and he fell back with a gasp, landing atop her bed and Ayla moved to quickly straddle him. Bending down, she kissed him and he immediately reciprocated, his hands going to her waist but Ayla caught them and tied his wrists together with his belt, wrapping the leather tightly, binding his hands together. He looked up at Ayla, unable to keep the grin off his face. 

“Well, this is new.” he said, quickly growing hard at what was unraveling before him.

“Yes, and I promise you,” Ayla began, her voice low and sultry as she pulled her gown up and over her head, tossing the gown aside and giving Thorin an eyeful of her naked body. “You will enjoy this.”

xxxxx

(Years later)

It was another good morning for Thorin as he gazed at the sleeping face of his heart’s desire. Ayla’s face was pressed into the pillows, her hair a wild mess from last night. Her upper half was bare, the sheets of their blankets only covering her lower half. This was a normal thing now for him, waking up next to her in their bed. His dream came true to finally have the woman he loved in his arms and in his bed. Now all that remained was to make her his wife and everything will be perfect. If only she would accept his proposal wholeheartedly.

Thorin thought back to how they blossomed as a couple, how he fell in love all over again with Ayla. They ate meals together, slept together, went on outings together, they even argued over petty disagreements. Perhaps petty was the wrong word since their arguments always centered around Ayla’s refusal to marry him. Once he had accused her unwillingness for marriage due to her still being in love with Thranduil, which resulted in a bigger fight and Ayla kicking him out of their room and refusing to speak to him for a month (she even went as far as pretending he didn’t exist). Of course they made up, they always do. They always made up in the most carnal of ways that ended with them both naked and panting. And whenever they got into a fight it never ceased to amaze him how his family would so easily take Ayla’s side over his, even his nephews would act nasty towards him and blow raspberries in his direction.

But he was wearing her down on the topic of marriage, as she was finally wearing the bracelet he had made for her as a betrothal gift. He took it as a sign that they were heading in the right direction, despite it taking longer than he would have liked. He supposed he was just being impatient, because he wanted what his sister had: a family. He wanted Ayla to be his wife and to be the mother of his children. He wanted that fantasy made real.

He wondered if Ayla wants the same fantasy.

He knew she desired children, she had told him that when he had asked her thoughts on having a family. And then learned that she had several failed pregnancies. Such a fact would have dampened his hope of possibly having children with Ayla, but in his heart he was sure that he could give her what she wanted: a child.

He supposed there was no rush, especially when they still had many more wonderful years to go. He was sure of it. Moving closer he lowered his lips to her bare shoulder, sliding one hand down the curve of her back and under the sheets to palm at her buttock. Ayla let out a soft moan as she stirred awake and Thorin moved up to kiss her awake.

“Good morning, my love.” Thorin said.

“Mm, morning.” Ayla replied, stretching and yawning awake. She rolled onto her back, rubbing the sleep from her eyes while Thorin moved on top of her, taking one of her dusky nipples into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the hardening nub, sucking on it and giving it a teasing bite while he pinched and rolled the other nipple between his fingers. Ayla moaned, her fingers going into his hair, massaging his scalp in encouragement as she opened her legs and Thorin settled his hips between them.

Ayla moaned again when Thorin began to move his hips against hers, his morning erection sliding along her moistened slit. He released his hand from her breast to reach down between them, guiding his ready cock to her entrance and pushed in. He kissed her sternum and then up to her collarbone as he moved in an even pace. Thorin pushed up onto his knees, gripping Ayla’s thighs as he continued thrusting into her, moving in and out faster, enjoying the slick friction of their bodies. Not to mention the view of Ayla and her breasts bouncing with his every thrust, her mouth open in pleasure as she moaned and her eyes closed.

He quickly came inside her with a gasping moan before bending forward and laying on top of Ayla, his ear pressed to her chest to listen to her beating heart as it slowly steadied. He remained inside her, savoring their unity (and also because he wanted to make sure all of his seed was inside her). Regardless if they were married or not he wanted to get started on their family; and Thorin knew that Ayla was not taking any measures of contraceptives because she believed that she was infertile. Yet Thorin held out hope. He believed their love was true enough that they will be blessed with children. But it had been years, and Thorin was always eager to have sex with Ayla anywhere and anytime, so then why were none of their efforts bearing fruit?

Was Ayla correct in saying that she truly was infertile?

xxxxx

Sitting with Dis, Ayla hardly touched her tea, too wrapped up in her thoughts of leaving. She had received a letter that day from one of her Ranger friends in the north. He had written that they were in need of her medical help. The letter hadn’t been very specific as to what was going on but it clued her in enough that it was serious. Arathorn was a proud man and would never seek help outside the Rangers if it weren’t important enough. Ayla had to leave ASAP, the sooner the better as the journey to the Northern Mountains was quite a trip. She might just cut through Rivendell to save her some time.

The real challenge was telling Thorin that she would be leaving and that she didn’t know when she would return (if she even wanted to return that is). In truth Ayla simply wanted to end things between her and Thorin; his possessiveness and constant proposing were setting off alarm bells in her brain. He was showing signs of mental illness, and he was growing increasingly aggressive (even a little violent) towards anyone who tried to even tried to look her way. It was very troubling, and she worried that Thorin was heading down the same path as his father and grandfather. If Ayla was honest with herself, it was only a matter of time before Thorin would turn his aggression towards her, and it could be triggered by anything.

She needed to end things.

She had no desire to stay in a relationship that started as a rebound in the first place.

“Ayla, are you all right?” Dis asked.

The human woman slowly shook her head. “No, and I’m afraid I haven’t been all right for some time now.”

Dis set her hands in her lap as she looked at Ayla, her thick eyebrows slanting into a frown. “It’s Thorin, isn’t it? He’s been acting erratic as of late. I’ve had my suspicions since last summer when he threatened my boys about taking up too much of your time.”

“It’s not just that, Dis, he’s been…I’m afraid he has the dragon sickness and that I’m the source.”

“Hmm…”

“Plus I think now is the right time to leave. I have a friend in the Rangers who needs my help.”

Dis nodded her head. “Yes, some time apart will be good for Thorin.”

“I just need a way to tell Thorin without him getting angry. Maybe I should just leave when he’s elsewhere, like at dinner?”

“Really? You’re going to sneak out like someone tween on curfew?” Dis asked, before throwing her head back in a full out laugh, slapping her thighs at the thought.

“I’m glad I still amuse you with my problems.” Ayla deadpanned, though she was incredibly worried; Thorin’s behavior was eerily frightening. More than once Ayla had been afraid for her own life and usually it was when she and Thorin were having sex. He had developed a kink for choking her, and normally Ayla was down for some adventure in BDSM, but until Thorin had taken to tying her up and then choking her was where she drew the line. The last time had been over a month ago.

It was time to leave.

xxxxx

Making the decision, Ayla decided it best to just leave and not say anything to anyone. She had to get out and find the Rangers in the north. As she packed she stopped every so often, trying to fight back the tears that were building up. She should’ve done this ages ago. She should’ve left when she saw the first signs of Thorin’s decent into this darkness. But she stayed because she loved him, because she thought she could fix him. But she had been painfully wrong and now she was running away, just like she ran away from Thranduil.

“Ayla,” she heard Thorin’s voice from behind, surprising her as she stood up straight and turned around to look at him. He looked confused, seeing her packing her essential belongings. “What is going on here?”

Shit! She got caught.

“I’m leaving, Thorin.” she said, “There’s an urgent matter I have to see to in the north.”

“You’re leaving?” Thorin asked, surprised and blindsided by Ayla’s announcement. 

A sudden flare of frustration erupted inside her. “Yes, did I stutter?” Ayla asked sarcastically as she turned her back to him and continued packing her travelling bag. “I have to go; my friend’s letter stated it was an emergency.”

Ayla could practically feel Thorin bristling up behind her. “Who sent the letter?” he asked, his voice now lower with an edge to it.

“A friend of mine; one of the Rangers of the North.” Ayla answered.

“And what’s so important that you have to leave right away?”

“He’s in trouble, that’s all you need to know.” Ayla said, pulling on her travelling cape and clasping her pin in the front. 

He? Thorin immediately had the compulsion to lock Ayla away.

“No! I need to know more! Who is this friend? Why does he ask for your help?” Thorin demanded, standing in front of Ayla. 

Ayla looked at him, her eyes showing how frustrated she was with him. “There’s no need to be suspicious, Thorin, or don’t you trust me?” She saw the hesitation and guilt in his eyes which Ayla didn’t seem at all surprised to see. “I see, well this is quite the bitter note to leave on.” she said, picking up her bag and slinging it over her shoulders and heading towards the door.

“Ayla, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way I’m just worried.” Thorin said, chasing after her. He reached out for her hand, catching it in his as he pulled her back to look at him. “I do trust you; I just don’t trust this friend of yours.”

“I don’t need you to trust him I need you to trust me.” Ayla said, pulling her hand from his. “That’s all I want, Thorin. For you to trust that nothing will happen.”

“I do trust you, Ayla.”

“Even if you say that it wouldn’t matter in the end. You’re easily jealous of other people you see me with, including your own family. The way you act so possessively over me, it’s not healthy and it actually scares me.”

“If I act like that it’s only because I love you so much. I don’t want to lose you.” he said, grabbing her wrist desperately, trying to find reasons to make her stay and see that he was simply looking out for her best interest. “Don’t leave, Ayla.”

“Let go of me.” Ayla said firmly.

“Why would you even want to leave? The humans have tried to kill you and the elves no longer welcome you. Where else can you go?” Thorin asked and Ayla immediately felt her stomach twist at the mention of the elves, her mind instantly bringing up an image of Thranduil and Legolas. She shook her head and tried to pull her wrists from Thorin’s grip but his hold was tight.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. On top of that, I’m not asking you for permission, Thorin, I’m letting you know that I’m leaving because my friend in the north is in trouble.”

Thorin’s eyes narrowed up at her. “And what exactly does this friend of yours need help with?” he asked, looking at Ayla with suspicion and it did not go unnoticed, but she said nothing as the letter that had been written requested that she kept its contents secret and to burn the letter once she was done reading it. “You’re running back to him, aren’t you?” Thorin all but spat and Ayla looked down at him in surprise. “I knew it. You couldn’t choose between us.”

What the fuck?

“Are you hearing yourself? You sound ridiculous.” Ayla scoffed, pulling at her wrists again. “Let go of me, Thorin!” In the struggle Thorin pulled her roughly back, throwing her off balance and sending her to the floor. She let out a yelp of pain as her right hip and shoulder landed hard on the stone floor.

“I will be damned if I ever let you go back to that traitorous elf!” Thorin screamed as he loomed menacingly over Ayla. “Have you forgotten what he did to my people? How he abandoned us? Abandoned you?! And you would willingly go crawling back to him like a bitch in heat!”

Ayla tried to get up but Thorin had pushed her back down, his rage taking over and she felt keenly aware of how afraid she was at that moment. This was a side of Thorin she had seen before whenever they argued, but he had never acted violently towards her then. 

“I should’ve known better! To think I’ve wasted all these years—why you refuse to marry me! It was all because you still love _him!”_

“Of course I do!” Ayla yelled back, glaring up at him in defiance. Thorin’s eyes widened, shocked by her retaliation. “I’ve spent centuries more with him than you’ve been alive! You can’t expect me to forget what he and I had just because I’ve been in your bed!” A loud slap echoed in the foyer of their room and Ayla was stunned silent, her left cheek stinging from Thorin’s hand. She could taste the metallic tang of blood in her mouth; the impact of the slap had been strong enough to cut the inside of her cheek against her teeth. 

Thorin’s stomach felt sour after hitting Ayla, having lost control of his anger; and strangely it also excited him. He felt justified in it; feeling betrayed that Ayla would so openly admit that she still loved the King of the Woodland Realm. Dropping down to his knees in front of her, he reached up and cradled her face in his hands, still seeing the defiance in her teary eyes. It only made his blood run hotter as he became aroused and he pulled her forward to him, capturing her mouth with his in a hungry kiss, fueled with anger and passion. Whenever they fought they always wound up in bed together. But not this time. Ayla pushed him away forcefully, disgusted by his behavior as she tried once more to get up but Thorin held tight.

“You are mine.” he growled into her face. “No one else can ever have you.”

“You’re insane.” Ayla hissed, “Just like your grandfather.”

Thorin’s eyes widened and he instantly released her as if her very skin burned him. Backing away Thorin digested what Ayla had said, comparing his rage to his grandfather’s insanity due to dragon sickness. Looking at Ayla, at the red cheek he had struck with his own hand, at the thrill he felt for hurting her…and he wanted to do it again. To feel dominant over what was meant to be his.

“I’m leaving, Thorin.” Ayla said, pulling him back to the present. His eyes focusing on her again as she stood up. “I’m leaving and I won’t be returning.”

Anger flared through him again at her words of defiance. “No! I forbid you from leaving!”

She scoffed at him, “I don’t care, Thorin. You’ve crossed the line and now you can’t go back. It’s over between us.” She went to the door, grabbing her bag again and this time making it out of the door.

“Ayla!” Thorin yelled, rushing out their room after her. “Ayla! Stop! You cannot leave me!” He reached out and grabbed onto Ayla’s arm, knowing his grip was hurting her but he desperately wanted her to stay. He felt that her leaving him would surely be the death of him. “As your king I forbid you to leave!”

“Let go!” Ayla yelled, fighting back as she struggled to free herself from Thorin’s grip. “I said let go!” she screamed, swinging her bag around with her free hand and knocking it into the side of Thorin’s head and at the same time taking a step back. Thorin’s grip on her slackened and Ayla’s arm slid out and her step back had been miscalculated as her foot missed the step. As if in slow motion, Thorin watched in horror, as Ayla slipped through his fingers. Her engagement bracelet catching on his middle finger and the chain of mythril snapping like string. Powerless to stop what came next, he watched as Ayla fell backwards down the flight of stone steps.

Her name escaped his lips in a desperate, frantic plea as he looked down at Ayla’s broken form at the very bottom, unmoving and unresponsive. It was then he became aware of all the eyes that had witnessed their scuffle. 

“Uncle! What have you done?”

Thorin looked back to see his two nephews looking at him in horror. Their mother beside them with her hands covering her mouth and her eyes wide with shock. He looked around him, at all the eyes that looked upon him in shock and the reality of what he had done came crashing into him like a tidal wave.

xxxxx

Thorin was wracked with guilt as he sat at Ayla’s bedside, holding her cold hand in his. Her fall down the stone stairs had given her a head injury, not to mention breaking both her legs and her right arm. It had been a week since their fight that led to this tragedy, and Ayla had yet to wake from it and Thorin feared that she never will. What was worse was when the healer told him that Ayla had been pregnant and the fall had caused her to miscarry. The news alone had devastated Thorin, burdened even further by the knowledge that he had killed their child. Ayla would never forgive him for that. And why should she? It was clear that she had been unhappy for some time and he simply chose to ignore the signs because he was terrified of losing her.

He had been a selfish fool, blinded by his greed to keep her to himself. And if she ever wakes up he will surely lose her forever.

_You're insane...just like your grandfather."_

“Forgive me, my love.” he whispered and kissed the back on her hand like he had done so many times since Ayla’s fall. He knew Ayla had the ability to come back from the dead, having heard the legend but he had no idea how long it was supposed to take until she woke up. Her heart was beating, that much he knew, and her skin was slightly warm to the touch. He would give up everything for her to open her eyes and be well again.

“Please, Ayla…please, wake up.”

Balin entered the room and looked upon the hunch back of his king, sitting beside the woman he loved, the woman he had broken in a fit of rage and jealousy. It was truly heartbreaking and pitiful at the same time.

“Thorin, you cannot continue on with such behavior. The way you’ve been acting, this jealousy, it’s as if you have the dragon sickness within you when it comes to Lady Ayla.” Balin said, trying to speak reason with his King. It was no secret that Thorin was like a territorial dog around Ayla, ready to bite at anyone who got too near. His jealousy and possessiveness had become too big a problem to ignore; especially when Balin (and nearly everyone) witnessed their argument right before Ayla’s tragic fall. Witnessing that had been the last straw for Balin and he simply couldn’t remain silent any longer.

“Your behavior as of late is not befitting a King, Thorin. I cannot stand behind you if you this is the kind of King you truly are! Hurting the ones you love just so they will stay is not the way. All you’re doing is just pushing them away even more.” Balin said, “It is appalling to see you treat Lady Ayla as if she were your property. You cannot deny her purpose to Middle Earth by locking her away!”

Thorin was still holding Ayla’s hand, and hung his head in shame because Balin was speaking the truth. It was true, he was obsessed and it was taking a toll on him mentally. He was disgusted with himself, his obsession driving him to hurt Ayla and kill their unborn child and to hear it from Balin…who had seen it…

“You’re right,” he finally said, his voice low with shame. “What I’ve done was shameful and I don’t know how to control myself. When she wakes…”

“No, Thorin. When she wakes it’s best that you keep your distance until she is ready to see you.” Balin said.

Thorin hesitated but slowly nodded his head in agreement. Lifting his head up he looked to Ayla’s face, pale and unresponsive. He kissed her knuckles gently before setting her hand down at her side and stood up, facing his long time friend with remorse on his face. “Please, look after her in my absence.”

xxxxx

A few days passed by and Ayla awoke, fully recovered from her fall. Dis and Balin had been there at her side when she awoke, telling her of what happened. Unfortunately Ayla remembered it all perfectly, one of her supposed downside to her strange immortality. What she hadn’t known was that she had another miscarriage caused by the fall, and that news (though upsetting) had been a bit of a relief. She didn’t feel the same attachment as she did to her previous pregnancies, and wondered if it had to do with the fact that she had fallen out of love with Thorin (or maybe because she had never been in love with Thorin from the start?). Regardless of her feelings about the news she decided to simply focus on moving forward and that meant leaving like she originally planned.

Ayla breathed in the cool, crisp mountain air as a freezing wind blew past her, making her shiver. She turned back to look at her two godsons, grateful for their help as she went to them and hugged them both. They hugged her in return, their embrace tight before releasing her. She touched their cheeks, their beards short and fine. A telling sign of their youth.

“Remember this: it’s not enough to just be good, you have to reflect that by doing good. Do you understand?” she said, seeing both boys nodding their heads. Kili sniffed and wiped at his watering eyes with the back of his sleeve. “This isn’t goodbye forever. We’ll see each other again. I love you both. Take care of each other.” She kissed each of their foreheads before taking the torch from Fili and turning away to make the trek down the mountain.

Her journey north had been slow going. Her body had gotten too used to living a life of comfort and was still recovering (strangely enough, normally her body often sprung back). A part of her began to wonder if whatever magic that had been keeping her alive was beginning to wear off? Or was it affected by her mood? Now that she had time to think on it she did heal faster when she was happy versus when she was sad or upset. Though it was a theory she wasn’t in a hurry to test out.

xxxxx

Months have passed and Ayla had found her way back to Rivendell, though she did not return alone. With her was a woman who was only days from giving birth. Ayla’s journey north to find the Rangers had been an easy enough task as Arathorn had given her easy to remember coordinates and landmarks. Arathorn hadn’t been exaggerating when he had written that her assistance was urgent because his wife was pregnant. Ayla knew of Arathorn’s lineage, having known the moment she saw the ring he wore on his finger, the same ring his ancestor had worn when she first arrived in Middle Earth. A shared secret had been what started their friendship.

Elrond was generous to give them both sanctuary within his home. Ayla tended to the woman, seeing how her legs and hands were swollen and the instant flushing of her cheeks when walking just a few steps, Ayla’s experienced eye saw that she was suffering from eclampsia. A fatal condition for pregnant women and the only cure being to induce an early pregnancy, but because she was already so far along Ayla could only hope that her symptoms will go away after delivering. She wished she could check the woman’s blood pressure but unfortunately all of her tools and medical instruments had been lost or damaged over the decades. The best she could offer was keeping the woman comfortable and making sure she remained resting in bed.

Ayla had informed Elrond in private that the woman was the wife of Arathorn, of whom the elven lord was familiar with. She explained that Arathorn had averted the attention of orcs from following them, originally targeting Arathorn due to somehow finding out his lineage. Elrond understood the importance of keeping the man’s legacy alive and per Ayla’s request to also hold onto Arathorn’s ring until the time was right. After less than a week, the woman had gone into labor. It all came in a rush to Ayla as she ordered for hot water and clean towels to be brought while Ayla herself coached the distressed woman to keep focus. The moon was at its zenith when the sound of the mother’s screams stopped and then followed by silence.

The baby came out with the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck and Ayla made quick work of cutting the cord and scooping a finger in its mouth to clear out any of the placenta and balanced the baby on her forearm while pressing two firm fingers into its chest. She was performing an emergency CPR on the infant, stimulating the heart to start up and then puffing half a breath into the baby by covering his mouth and nose with her mouth and then pumping her fingers into his chest again. She repeated this cycle three more times before the baby finally took its first breath on its own and began to wail, letting the world know that he was alive. 

“Ar…Aragorn…” the mother breathed, looking at her baby. “Aragorn…”

“Gilraen,” Ayla said, seeing the woman lose consciousness. She handed the wailing infant over to one of the elves that were assisting her while she turned to inspect the mother. Ayla checked her pulse in her neck, feeling nothing and began to perform another emergency CPR, but unlike her luck with the baby, she couldn’t save the mother. She wasn’t the first mother she had lost to childbirth, and Ayla knew she wouldn’t be the last. And with the father missing, the baby had no one.

xxxxx

(Past)

Ayla sat with Pamela at her first of many pre-natal visits with the obstetrician, ready to verify and hear the evidence that Pamela had a sprout growing in her belly. Of course it would be incredibly disappointing if it all turned out to be nothing, especially when Pamela had gone through a dozen pregnancy tests from the drug store and from the hospital’s pharmacy. And as much as it pained Ayla to be in one of these rooms again and not be the one expecting, she sucked it up for the sake of her best friend.

“Which one of those pictures do you think has the ugliest baby?” Pamela asked, looking at the wall of baby pictures.

“Hmm. The third one to the far left.” Ayla said.

“Super creepy, wonder what the parents look like.” Pamela said and both of them laughed shamelessly.

A knock at the door indicated the doctor was there and in entered the doctor, an older woman with salt and pepper hair and creamy mocha skin. She introduced herself as Dr. Martinez who came highly recommended by Google search. Ayla didn’t want to use the OBGYN she had gone to, mostly because it would have been awkward.

“So, how long have you two been trying?” she asked, giving them a polite and accepting smile. Ayla and Pamela both looked at each other with a mischievous glint in their eyes.

“Not very long,” Pamela said, taking Ayla’s hand in hers. “We got lucky on the first try.”

“Yup, our preliminary technique for weeding out the weak donors worked out as planned.” Ayla added, playing along. “Who knew a turkey baster would work so well?”

“Well, let’s check to see how well that worked out for you today.” the doctor said. Pamela lifted her shirt and cold ultrasound jelly was squirted onto her skin and the handpiece was used to spread it around. All eyes went to the black and white screen. With just the right placement they all heard the fluttery pulse of the baby’s heartbeat.

Pamela’s hands held onto Ayla’s, sucking in a breath as their eyes were glued to the screen. “Oh, Soryn! The cheap pee-sticks really work!”

“Look at that, you actually have your own spawn in there.” Ayla said, feeling giddy in the moment.

“From the looks of it you’re a good six weeks in.” said the doctor, “Congratulations to you both. Would you like a print out of today’s ultrasound?”

“Yes,” Ayla said, “We’re planning on making a scrapbook of every stage.”

“Oh, how nice! I’ll be right back.” the doctor then took her leave as Pamela wiped away the jelly.

“Scrapbook?” Pamela asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s believable, right?” Ayla asked. Pamela snorted, tossing the tissue in the bin.

“Hmm, that’s actually not a terrible idea. Let’s ask Stacy, she likes doing girly things like that, right?” 

“I’m guessing she hasn’t shown you her collection yet. Lucky you.”

“So how are you doing? None of this is too upsetting for you?”

Ayla shook her head and smiled at Pamela. “Don’t worry about me. This is all about you.”

“You’re damn right it is!” Pamela grinned.

xxxxx

(Present)

Gilraen had been buried in a modest grave in elven soil, her newborn son left in the hands of the elves. Under normal circumstances the baby would have been left with the next of kin, but because one parent was dead and the other missing it left the question of who will care for the boy. In the end, Elrond had asked that Ayla care for the child as her own if she was willing; otherwise his people would raise the child.

Ayla had no intention of going anywhere, having no desire to travel, having no desire for _anything_ —and definitely had no desire to raise someone else’s child, especially when she was strongly reminded of the baby she had lost. On top of that, Aragorn was Isildur’s heir, which meant that his life was in danger and would need protecting. And how was she going to protect him when she could hardly care for herself?

But…

If her long life and experiences have taught her anything it was that time was still against her and that she shouldn’t let opportunities pass her by. Was this the universe throwing her a bone? Giving her another chance at motherhood? She’s already raised one adopted son (who probably hates her now but what son doesn’t eventually resent their mothers as they get older?), and being a foster mother had always been her backup. She thought about Gilraen, and how scared she looked when Arathorn left to divert the orc’s attentions from them. How she confided in Ayla that should she herself die to look after her child. Aragorn was just an infant, he would never know his mother but his father could return…

She could hear the distant cries of the infant from where she sat, her heart clenching as she looked at the grave. “I hope you’ll forgive me for taking your place.” she said softly before rising to her feet and turning to follow the cries. Her ears leading her back to Elrond’s study where the elf was sitting in his chair and trying to sooth the baby’s wailing. He looked up when he felt her presence, standing up and going to her, gently handing the baby to her. Ayla cradled Aragorn in her arms, gently bouncing him and patting his back as his cries were quickly remedied.

Elrond smiled gently at her. “He already recognizes you as the one who gave him life.” he said, reminding her that she had revived Aragorn the second he was born. “But he cannot be called by his given name less the evil that lurks in the shadows finds him. He must be raised under a new name.”

_“Estel,”_ she said softly, “I’m going to name him Hope.” she looked up at Elrond who nodded his approval.

“Estel, son of Ayla, the Mother of Mercy.”

xxxxx

(Past)

Ayla was leaning against the stall in the ladies’ room, listening to her best friend hurling into the porcelain bowl. She yawned tiredly while holding her cup of coffee, sipping the hot liquid and savoring its taste while she waited for Pamela to finish emptying every last bit of bile her stomach carried. Eventually she heard the flushing of the toilet and the click on the lock of the stall door, and out came Pamela, pale, clammy, and looking incredibly miserable.

“Why is it that you feel compelled to send me an emergency text _every_ time you need to puke?” Ayla asked while Pamela rinsed her mouth out in the sink, a travel-size bottle of mouthwash pulled out from her lab coat. Pamela swished a mouthful of the minty blue liquid and spat into the sink.

“Oh, you know me, I just love to share.” Pamela said dryly.

“Mm, guess that makes me the Best Friend of the Year.” Ayla said, equally as dry as she walked out with her. “I expect a trophy when you’re done being pregnant.”

“Yes, and you’ve earned it.” Pamela said in a baby voice as she playfully pinched Ayla’s cheek. Ayla swatted her hand away, annoyed but smiling. “What would I do without you?”

“Well, first of all, without me you’d probably have started drinking martinis and pairing them with sushi for lunch. Second, I’d rather be the cool aunt who feeds your kid so much sugar that they can practically fly to the moon and then leave them in your care.”

Pamela snorted, “Have I mentioned that if I didn’t like cock so much I’d totally go lesbian for you?”

“Sadly, yes. At least once a year when we get incredibly drunk together.”

“Hmm, do you recall what time of year?”

“Usually around Christmas. I think Amber has a photo of us making out our senior year of undergrad. She gave it to Becky in a birthday card form, if I remember.”

“Jeez…that cunt is wicked.” Pamela sighed, “Where’s my naughty birthday card?”

“You’ll probably get one at your baby shower.”

Just six more months to get through.

xxxxx

(Present)

Ayla had been up for nearly three nights in a row as Estel refused to sleep and continued to cry. She was beginning to lose her mind and had tried every trick in the book from feeding him warm milk to swaddling him in a cocoon of fluffy blankets. She must’ve skipped the chapter on colicky babies and what to do with them when throwing them off a cliff wasn’t an option.

“Please stop crying!” she begged, wanting to break down and cry herself. Why did she agree to raise this kid? Why did she bother to resuscitate the little bastard?! She was so tired and mentally drained. Elrond was right about one thing, the baby did distract her mind from her other problems. “Man I wish I had some Benadryl to give you…or whiskey.”

She checked his diaper—that was clean. She checked if he was hungry—he was not. She re-swaddled him in his blanket—still fussing. She bounced him in her arms—still crying. What could she do to make him stop crying? Hmm…she thought back to her medical school days and how she had observed new mothers bonding with their newborns, laying them on their chests, skin to skin. It was worth a try. Taking off her outer layer of clothes and un-swaddling the infant, Ayla gently laid his naked front up against her bare chest, his soft round cheek pressed against her skin over her heart. She pulled on a blanket around her shoulders and held him close, gently swaying back and forth until finally— _finally!_ —he settled down. That—or she had finally gone deaf.

Either way, it was now quiet.

Ayla reclined back on the soft lounger, carefully balancing the baby on her chest as she got comfortable and drifted off to a dreamless sleep. When she next awoke, she was still reclined on the lounger with a stiff neck and a still sleeping baby against her chest, and she wanted to continue sleeping but unfortunately Estel had peed on her.

“Just great…” she groaned.

Motherhood with an infant was certainly not what she had innocently fantasized but she knew that getting peed on and then some was just part of what she had taken on.

xxxxx

(Past)

“You’re gonna love breastfeeding, Pam!” Stacy said, she, Pamela and Ayla were having lunch together after Stacy had brought her daughter in for her wellness check. Stacy was currently breastfeeding her newest daughter underneath a blanket while they waited for their lunch orders to arrive at their table. “It’s a wonderful bonding experience with your baby.”

“I think I’ll stick to pumping.” Pamela said.

“Pumping helps but it’s not the same when your baby is sucking out the milk.” Stacy said, “You should at least give it a try before deciding right away to just pump your milk.”

“I’ll consider it but I’d rather just pump.” Pamela said.

“Where the hell is our food.” Ayla sighed, sick of all the nursing advice (and also a little crabby because she was on her period).

“Did you get that book I recommended?” Stacy asked.

“Of course not, why would I need a book to tell me how to raise my child?” Pamela asked.

“Those types of books have a lot of helpful tips.” Stacy said, “The tip about cleaning your nipple after breastfeeding and then rubbing chapstick on it was super handy.”

“Is it too early to start drinking?” Ayla asked though she knew her question went ignored.

“What I want to know is how you got through the morning sickness. What tricks did you pick up for that?” Pamela asked, “Soryn here was no help with that advice because she said sniffing dryer sheets helped her, and that to me is just fucking crazy.”

“I kept a box of saltine crackers by my bed and in my purse. It definitely helped with the nausea. Grape soda also helped, but it had to be flat soda or else the carbonation would leave me super gassy all day.” Stacy said.

“Crackers, I’ll give it try.” Pamela said, “So what about the no alcohol thing?”

“Flavored water with apple cider vinegar.” Stacy said.

“Seriously?” both Ayla and Pamela said together in disbelief and disgust.

“What? You wanna drink ginger ale for nine months? Screw that!” Stacy said.

“I think I can handle having a disabled baby.” Pamela said.

“No you can’t.” Ayla said in a flat tone.

“And what makes you say that?” Pamela asked.

“Just this morning after making the mandatory rounds with the new Residents you came to me and I quote: ‘Oh my fucking god, they’ll let any retard become a doctor these days.’ End quote. If you can barely tolerate newbies what makes you think you can tolerate a disabled kid?” Ayla said.

“That definitely sounds like something you would say.” Stacy said.

“Excuse me, whose side are you on?” Pamela asked, looking at Ayla.

“I’m on yours which is why I’m pointing out that you’re too shallow for a special needs kid. You’re the type whose gonna be that mom where your kid will be mixing you drinks for their allowance.” Ayla said.

Pamela laughed. “That does sound like me.”

Stacy laughed, too as she placed her baby back in her carrier and readjust her top before laying the blanket over the baby. “I wonder what kind of mom you’ll make, Ayla.” she said before realizing what she had said and looked at Ayla with wide, apologetic eyes. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—ugh! I stuck my foot in my mouth again!”

Ayla just smiled at Stacy, “It’s all right, I wonder about that, too.”

Pamela put her hand over Ayla’s and gave it a squeeze. “It’ll happen for you. And when it does, you’ll be the best mom out of all of us.”

xxxxx

(Present)

Thranduil’s heart thundered in his chest as he slowly approached Ayla, her back to him as she stood in the open field of tall golden grass and wild flowers that had bloomed late this season. Her long dark hair had been tied up high on her head with loose strands hanging defiantly from their constraints. With her hair mostly out of the way it exposed her neck, still as lovely and graceful as he remembered, awakening an urge for him to put his lips upon the soft spot behind her ear that made her whole body tremble. As he got closer he noticed that she appeared to be holding something in her arms and she was gently swaying side to side on her feet, as if she were rocking a baby in her arms.

A week ago he had received a letter from Elrond, informing him that Ayla had resurfaced and taken refuge in his domain. The letter had been vague as to why Ayla was hiding away in Rivendell and not simply return to Mirkwood, though he could guess why she would choose Rivendell. Thranduil was still hurt by Ayla’s betrayal, but having had a few decades to reflect upon it, his anger hadn’t been so fully focused on Ayla but on himself. Ayla had been right in saying he and his army could have done more to help, instead of fighting the dragon he could have ordered his army to assist the people escaping. He could have done more for aiding his former allies instead of turning away. Had he stayed then things would have been different. He and Ayla would still be together, happily.

She would never have been seduced by that dwarf. She would never have left him. No…what’s done is done and there was no going back to fix past mistakes. There was only moving forward and hoping for the best.

So what was he hoping for by coming here?

Just a few steps away from her he stopped. He could hear her humming a lullaby, the very same one she often hummed or sang to Legolas when he was a small child.

“Ayla,” he called softly and her humming halted, and her swaying ceased as she stood suddenly still. Very slowly she turned her head to look over her shoulder, their eyes meeting. She was still as beautiful as he remembered, standing in the soft light of the setting sun, casting its heavenly glow of orange, pink and red on her. He watched as her body slowly turned towards him and his eyes immediately fell to the babe cooing in her arms. He raised his gaze to meet hers, and they stood in silence for what felt like an eternity, neither one of them speaking. He saw no apology in her eyes as she stood before him with a baby in her arms. 

A baby that she obviously had with another man.

Whatever he had hoped to possibly achieve was extinguished by this unexpected reality.

He knew that Ayla had spent several years wandering around into small villages, and several more with Thorin and his people in the Blue Mountains. Did she lay with one of the men in those villages and bore him a child? Or could it be she had given birth to Thorin’s child? Such a truth splintered his heart.

“Thranduil,” she said softly, the sound of his name coming from her like a gentle caress to his soul. “What are you doing here?”

“I had come for you, Ayla. But I see I’ve come too late.” he said, his eyes flicking down to the baby and then back at her. It took everything he had from lashing out at her, calling her horrible names and for once more breaking his heart and disappointing Legolas.

“Oh…” she said, lowering her eyes, unable to hold his accusing gaze. “Perhaps I should explain.”

“Yes, perhaps you should.” Thranduil said, his tone carrying more bite than he had intended but he was not going to apologize about it. He was angry, and he felt that he was entitled to be angry.

Ayla adjusted the baby’s weight in her arms, lifting him up higher to rest against her shoulder. “Estel is an orphan. His father was killed by orcs and his mother died at childbirth.”

“And you were desperate for a child to call your own.” Thranduil accused bitterly, reminded all too vividly of Ayla’s previous failed pregnancies. 

Ayla’s hackles were raised at his words, insulted by that low blow. “He has no other family, Thranduil. And his parents were my friends. I couldn’t just abandon him, that would have been cruel and an insult to his parents’ memories.” Even still her heart was too big and Thranduil could see that she truly loved the boy as her own. “I helped raise your son and he wasn’t even my own, but I saw him as mine and loved him as his mother. And I know Legolas recognized me as his mother. So I see no difference in Estel’s case. He needed a mother, just like Legolas did. You can’t fault me for this fact.”

“You’re right. I cannot.” he admitted, even though it left a bitter aftertaste. “I can see now that my coming here was pointless.”

He saw her face fall with sadness at his words. “Then why did you come?”

Thranduil paused, having wondered that himself. When he had received a letter from Lord Elrond that he had given Ayla asylum in his house Thranduil had wrote back that he would come for her. But as he journeyed through the Misty Mountains to Rivendell he pondered about his reasons for acting so hastily. It came as no surprise that he still loved Ayla, and he had wanted nothing more than to move past their previous grievances. Yet it was clear that too much time had passed between them and he feared that he had allowed his one chance to make things right slip away.

“It no longer matters.” he said almost too quietly, turning away and retracing his steps back to Elrond’s home. Ayla made no attempt to stop him because as much as she wanted to be with Thranduil again, she knew there was still too much hurt between them. And with the baby present, it wasn’t a good idea to open old wounds.

xxxxx

That evening Thranduil joined Elrond for dinner, expecting Ayla would also be present but she wasn’t. More than likely she had taken to eating in her room because of the baby. It was better this way. The less he saw of her, the easier it would be to simply leave and return home.

“Were you able to speak with Lady Ayla?” Elrond asked.

“We spoke, but I’m afraid the results were not in my favor.” Thranduil replied, his heart still stinging.

“Did she tell you about Estel?”

“She told me that his parents are gone and that she will be raising him. Nothing more than that.”

“So then she did not tell you about who his father was?”

“No. Who was his father?”

Elrond reached into his sleeve and pulled out a ring, setting it down by Thranduil’s plate. Picking it up Thranduil immediately recognized the design as the Ring of Barahir and his grey eyes looked up at Elrond’s in surprise. “The boy is Isildur’s heir?”

Elrond nodded his head. “Which is why he must be protected. Lady Ayla had befriended Arathorn many years ago and helped deliver his son, Aragorn.”

“I thought his name was Estel.”

“It is, but Lady Ayla was wise to change it to protect him further. She has pledged herself to raising him as her own and has thus far upheld that promise. The boy is thriving under her care, and will continue to do so.”

“Have you already foreseen his future?”

“Yes, and it will have many struggles.”

“Does Ayla know of them?”

“No. She has asked to not know. She said being a mother is hard enough and to know what lies ahead for her child will only make the present harder.” Elrond took notice of the tightening in the Elvenking’s jaw, and the way his shoulders looked rigid and stiff. “Her pain is deep, as if yours. I know that after the attack on Dale and Erebor, something had caused a rift between you both and it saddens our kin and myself to learn that you are no longer together. Whatever it was to have sever your bond of true love must have been significant indeed.”

xxxxx

Thranduil knocked on Ayla’s door later that night; on the other side he can hear Estel crying. He knocked again on the door and heard her call out to come inside. He opened the door, entering her room and seeing her laying Estel down on the bed where she had placed down a cloth and began to change his linen diaper. Thranduil had not been prepared for that but was fixated by how seamless it was for Ayla, cleaning the infant and tossing the dirty linen into a basket behind her while simultaneously putting on a new linen diaper. Her ability to multitask was always impressive and she did it all with a smile as she redressed the infant who was once more docile and content.

“Who’s a happy baby?” she cooed, tickling Estel’s tummy with her fingers, making the infant laugh and kick his feet. “Yes! You’re my happy baby!” Ayla bent down, kissing his chubby cheeks and making him laugh more before she picked him up and rose up to stand, still kissing his cheeks with so much affection. Seeing Ayla like this with Estel, it made Thranduil’s heart ache and whatever lingering bitterness he held vanished at the love that radiated off of her for the boy.

Ayla looked over at Thranduil and was visibly surprised to see him and not someone else. “Was there something you needed?” she asked, her tone was still warm but he could hear the deafening echo of her wariness towards him as she held Estel to her body, her arms acting like a protective barrier.

Thranduil swallowed a lump in his throat. He had every intention of speaking to Ayla about Estel’s true origin, about how he now knew that Estel was Isildur’s heir, and that she shouldn’t have to carry the burden of protecting him on her own.

But seeing her with Estel, how truly happy she looked…

“What you’re doing is noble, Ayla. Estel is truly lucky to have you as his mother.” he said. She looked at him with some surprise, obviously not expecting that and then her surprise melted into a genuine smile that only made his heart clench with longing.

“Thank you. And how is Legolas? Did he not come with you?”

“No, he remained behind but he is well. He misses his _naneth.”_

Ayla nodded as she gently patted Estel’s back, sensing he was on the verge of sleep. She carried him over to his cradle, laying him down gently and tucking the blanket around his body snuggly. Ayla watched him drift off and gently stroked his soft black curls before turning and walking over to Thranduil.

“Did Lord Elrond tell you the truth about Estel?” she asked, her voice soft.

“He did.” She was standing close enough that he could reach out and stroke her cheek, but he didn’t, consciously making the effort to restrain himself. “Which is why I will be leaving at first light, back to the Woodland Realm…without you.”

Ayla looked down and nodded her head. “Then I wish you a safe journey.”

He wanted nothing more than for her to come home with Estel but Elrond had made it clear that for Estel’s sake it would best that he remained in Rivendell where Elrond’s magic can protect him from being seen by the evil that still lurked beyond his borders. And Ayla would not leave Estel behind and he could not stay away from his own kingdom just to stay with the woman he still loved. His poor heart was breaking all over again.

“Goodnight, Ayla.” he said softly, turning away from her again and leaving.

When the door closed, Ayla broke down in tears, hugging herself and trying not to make too much noise. It didn’t have to be said, she knew that it was over for good with Thranduil. And it hurt more than she realized.

xxxxx

As time went on, Ayla cared for Estel as her own, raising him among the elves in Rivendell. It had been agreed that his true identity be kept a secret until he was old enough to understand, especially after hearing the news that Arathorn had been killed. Ayla celebrated each and every milestone with Estel. From when he first began to teeth to his first steps to his first words (which was not Mama but in fact was “damnit,” which was much funnier and more memorable because it was said on Elrond’s lap). She kissed every scraped knee and soothed every fever, and she even encouraged him to be free and curious. Her heart was full of love again, but every so often she yearned for a certain Elvenking, wondering if he was thinking of her, too.

Ayla sat on a bench, gently cleaning and tending to yet another scraped knee that Estel got from being reckless. He had previously broken his right arm from falling out of a tree earlier that month but he was a resilient boy, just as she raised him to be, and at the age of twelve he was sometimes a little too smart for his own good.

“Mother, what’s it like outside of Rivendell?” he asked.

“Outside of Rivendell…well, it’s definitely not as quiet. It’s very big and it’s always changing. I doubt half of the cities I’ve been to are still standing now.” Ayla said.

“When can I go out and see the world?”

“Whenever you want.”

“Could I go now?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Will you come with me?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve already seen the world.”

“But I don’t know where to go.”

Ayla smiled, teasing him was too much fun. “That’s part of the fun.”

“Well…yes, but I…”

“Tell you what…the next time Lord Elrond goes off again on patrol, I’ll ask that he takes you along. How does that sound?” She watched as his face lit up.

“Really? That would be amazing!”

“But you have to promise me that you won’t come back with your head off your shoulders, because that’s an injury I can’t fix.”

“I promise!”

Ayla kissed him on the top of his curly crown before sending him away, watching him trot away and reminded of a young Legolas who was just as energetic and fearless. Thinking of her life before Estel was less painful now, but it didn’t stop her from feeling the longing and sadness. Then she would unconsciously touch her lower belly and be reminded of her loss and why she could never go back. Estel had become a balm to her aching soul, nestled in her chest.

But he was getting older now, he was more aware of himself and soon he will ask her the hard questions. Where was his father? Why didn’t he look like her? Why didn’t she age? Those were questions she was dreading but already had answers to. She wasn’t going to sugar coat the truth; she was going to tell him as soon as he asked her. He might not ever ask her, but either way, the truth was better than a half-truth.

At fifteen he helped exterminate a small horde of orcs at their border, coming home with a proud grin as he showed her the ax from an orc he killed. Of course he ended up with a black eye and a large gash on his upper thigh that Ayla had to stitch closed.

“Hold still,” she said, firmly pushing his knee down to lay his injured leg straight while the other elves who had been with him laughed quietly at his expense.

“I can’t help it! It hurts!” Estel complained, “Why can’t Lord Elrond use his magic to heal me?”

“Don’t be such a baby.” Ayla scoffed and smacked him on the forehead. 

“You would have been proud, Lady Ayla.” Elrond said, smiling down at Estel who was sweating bullets from the pain. “Your son was very brave on the field.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m so very proud to have a boneheaded son.” Ayla grumbled before flicking his forehead. “I said hold still.”

Estel propped himself up onto his elbows as he looked down at his leg and then at the needle and thread his mother was holding. “Please, Lord Elrond—tell mother that you can heal me instead.”

Ayla reached up and smacked him on the forehead again. “What did I say about being a baby?” 

“Forgive me, Estel, but I will not dare undermine your mother’s authority.” Elrond said in good humor.

Ayla had another elf, a new student interested in learning Ayla’s medicinal techniques, help her hold Estel’s leg still while she sutured the wound closed. Estel bit down on his hand to keep from screaming as the needle and thread went through the tender flesh.

“Mother, you’re a true sadist.” he groaned after she was done and cleaning away the dried blood.

“I’ve had years of practice.” she grinned, patting his injured leg and getting a howl of pain from the teenager. Ayla gave a wicked cackle before kissing his head and leaving him be as the elf who had assisted wrap his leg.

At age twenty Estel was finally told the truth of his heritage, and was shown to the forgotten alcove where his real mother had been buried. “She was your mother. Gilraen. She died at childbirth, and because your father had disappeared before you were born there was no one else to care for you.” Ayla said, sitting with him on the stone bench. Estel was quiet from the revelation of his true origin. Staring at the grave of a stranger he never knew while sitting with the woman who took her place. “I only knew her for a short time, but I know that she loved you and wanted nothing more than for you to live.” 

“You’ve never talked about my birth. How did…did she suffer?” he asked softly.

“When you came out, you weren’t crying like babies usually do. Your cord was wrapped around your neck and I only had a small window to save you or else you would have died that night. Unfortunately your mother didn’t make it. She had been ill while she carried you; the illness and labor were too much for her body to take. Her final breath was your name. Your _real_ name.”

“My real name?”

“Aragorn.”

“And my father…what was his name?”

“Arathorn…that was his name. He’s one of the Dunedain, as are you. Your father was a good man and when I heard that he had died Lord Elrond went through great lengths to keep you hidden.”

“Why?”

Ayla reached into her pocket and pulled out the Ring of Barahir, putting it into her son’s palm. “Because you’re special. You’re Isildur’s heir, making you the rightful King of Gondor.”

They sat in silence, Ayla giving him the time he needed to take in the truth that she had been waiting to tell. When he then took her hand in his, warm and slightly callused and scarred from all the hard training he did to be a warrior, he kissed the back of her hand. “I understand why you waited until now to tell me the truth. But the truth doesn’t change the fact that _you_ are my mother.”

She smiled, putting her other hand over his. This wasn’t the first time she heard those words be spoken to her, but it didn’t make it any less special as her heart swelled. “And I always will be your mother.”

“I think I’m ready,” he said, “I want to see the world as you did.”

“I think that’s a terrible idea.” Ayla said, earning a questionable look from Aragorn as she grinned at him. “I think you should see the world through your own eyes instead of mine. The world I saw won’t be the same world you’ll see.” she reached up and brushed aside a strand of dark curls from his eyes. “Head north, find the other Dunedain. Learn from them, but don’t give them your real name. Don’t even give them your elven name, either.”

“What name should I give them?”

“Whatever name you want. I think the more mysterious the better. And do write back every so often, mothers like to know that their reckless sons didn’t die in a ditch somewhere.”

Aragorn laughed and kissed her cheek. “I promise to get your permission first before dying in a ditch.”

“That’s my boy.” she said, patting his cheek.

Watching him pack his horse, Ayla wondered if this is how her father felt (forget her mother) when she went off to college. Eager to kick her out but sad to see her go. She was feeling a blend of mixed emotions. On the one hand she was anxious to see him leave, while on the other hand she really needed to cut the leash and let him jump the fence.

“Goodbye, mother.” he said, hugging Ayla tightly.

“Be smart out there.” she said, hugging him back. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, because I’ve done all of it. Oh, and don’t gamble with dwarves, they like to cheat.” Aragorn laughed as he pulled away to go to his horse, mounting it and looking back at Ayla and Lord Elrond who were sending him off in the early hours of the morning. They watched him leave until he vanished out of their line of sight.

“How are you holding up?” Elrond asked.

Ayla let out a heavy sigh, “How will I know that I didn’t mess up raising him?”

“You raised him into a fine young man, Ayla. Never doubt that.” Elrond said.

“Crap, I forgot to tell him to not trust wandering wizards.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Yes, I understand the timeline doesn’t quite fit but I felt compelled to write this, plus I needed a slight intermission before moving on to the next phase of the story. I do apologize to any hard core Aragorn fans out there and to all the mega Tolkien-lore buffs out there. Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected series reunion occurs and Ayla finds herself explaining her absence to the people loves and cares for. Throw in a certain Grey Wizard and Ayla is wrangled into an unwanted adventure back to Greenwood, but the great forest is no longer called that and she is forced to confront a certain Elvenking who still occupies her heart and thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A semi-crossover with "The Hobbit" movies but will not be consistent with the films as liberties will be taken

_Dear Mother,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I have traveled down to Rohan and it is nothing but grassland as far as the eye can see. I remember you telling me stories about this land from when I was small. The people here are just as you have described, a little mistrusting of strangers. I hope you are well and I hope to see you soon. Perhaps my travels will bring me back to you._

_Your loving son,_

_Estel_

It had been a rather lively morning as Elrond lead a small legion of his warriors to their borders where orcs have been reported. It had been another ten years since Ayla watched Aragorn leave the haven of Rivendell, and she had to admit, it was rather lonely without him but she had been kept busy, teaching some of the elves about medicine and how the anatomy of the body worked. She had never thought of herself as being a teacher but she was rather good at it, and the elves had been most receptive and fascinated (and somewhat disgusted).

Currently she was making a few sketches and Ayla couldn’t remember the last time she had taken the time to sit and draw (never mind the doodles she made in the corners of her notebooks), the last time was probably when she was still in high school and going through her angst phase. She drew on thick parchment with charcoal pencils, drawing out in great detail the human anatomy, muscles, skeleton, and organs. She was currently in the middle of sketching out the heart and its four chambers for her next lesson when a commotion near the gates grabbed her attention. Wiping her hands, Ayla made her way from her bedchamber towards the source of all the excitement. A part of her wondered if maybe it was her son, returning from his adventures and the thought of it made her excited and she hurried in her eagerness to see him.

It had been little over four years since she last saw Aragorn, though they didn’t spend much time together as her son fell prey to a pretty face and pointed ears (he obviously takes after her in his preferences of attraction). Arwen, Lord Elrond’s daughter, had also seemed to return the attraction to Aragorn, and like any good mother, Ayla had a hard time resisting the urge to meddle in their development. It was almost painful to watch her son interact with the beautiful maiden, seeing him tripping over his words and his face growing red with embarrassment (it was adorable). Of course Aragorn’s stay in Rivendell came to an end and he returned on his travels, heading south. Arwen stayed much longer and she and Ayla became close friends before the elven maiden left to return to Lothlorien. 

Following the noise, Ayla paused at the top of the stairwell.

She was not expecting _this_ sort of company.

xxxxx

Thorin and his company were huddled in suspicion as Lord Elrond dismounted his steed and greeted Gandalf. They had escaped the orcs that had been pursuing them only to end up again in enemy territory. Thorin looked on in guarded suspicion but was soon distracted by an image coming down the steps to the landing. His eyes widened a fraction and his jaw went slack as he saw the one woman he thought to never see again… and she was as beautiful as he remembered, not having aged a day as usual, and glowed like an angel.

“Well bless my soul,” came Balin’s voice beside him. “If it isn’t…”

“…Ayla…” Thorin said, his voice soft with the warm memory of her.

“What unusual guests,” Ayla said, smiling brightly at the company. “And all of faces I haven’t seen in years.”

“Mother of Mercy, of beauty, grace, and warmth.” Gandalf said, placing a hand over his heart and bowing his head to Ayla. “It has been a long time, My Lady.”

“Gandalf, still wagging that silver tongue of yours, I see.” Ayla said, though she smiled at him warmly.

“My Lady,” Thorin said, bowing to her, and his men followed in the same manner. Bilbo hesitated for a second but quickly caught on to just bow regardless if he understood or not, his eyes glued to Ayla, having never seen someone so enchanting in all his life.

Elrond greeted them in elvish and it was obvious the dwarves had no idea what had just been said to them. 

“What does he say? Does he offer us insult?” Gloin asked, ready for a fight.

“No, Master Gloin. He is offering you food.” said Gandalf.

The dwarves all huddled together, whispering quickly amongst each other before facing them again. “Very well then! Lead on.” said Gloin.

xxxxx

The dwarves were shown to a wing where they may stay and were given time to unburden themselves and rest before mealtime. Bilbo was enchanted by Rivendell, the magic there was strong and gentle, like being wrapped up in a warm blanket. It was hard to believe that he, a hobbit, was in the home of the elves. No one back in the Shire would believe him, or maybe they would considering he had left his home in a ruckus. An elf had come to lead them to the dining hall, a space with no walls and open sky and tables set for all of them with silver plates and goblets.

Bilbo looked over at the table where Lord Elrond sat, with Gandalf, Thorin and Ayla seated with him. The hobbit had noticed how Thorin had looked at the woman when they first arrived, never having seen such a look on the warriors face.

“So who exactly is that woman?” Bilbo asked from where he sat at the table.

“That woman is Lady Ayla,” said Dwalin, his tone sounding almost offensive by Bilbo’s ignorance.

“Folks also know her as the Mother of Mercy.” said Bofur, “She’s quite famous, the humans view her as a deity of medicine.”

“A deity? So then how do you all seem to know her?” Bilbo asked.

“She is a friend to both dwarves and elves. Constantly travels between the kingdoms as an ambassador, of course no one has seen her in decades but from the looks of it she’s been here the whole time.” said Bofur.

“She travels between the elves and dwarves but not with humans? Isn’t she a human herself?” Bilbo asked.

“Humans, over the years, had slowly turned against her. There is a story that a human King accused her of witchcraft and sentenced her death. That was the last time any attempt of rebuilding alliances with humans had been made.” said Balin.

“Her own people tried to kill her?” Bilbo asked.

“They didn’t try, they succeeded.” Bofur said in a matter of fact tone, “And then she rose from the dead like nothing had ever happened.”

“Rose…rose from the _dead?”_ Bilbo was beginning to wonder if they were now just stringing him along with these absurd tales.

“Aye, lad, but don’t ask us how she does it.” Balin said, “Because nobody knows. And it’s best to not ask, it’s bad luck.”

“And what about her and Thorin?” Bilbo asked, seeing the way Thorin looked at Ayla with such fondness and familiarity. “Is there something between them?”

“There was once.” said Balin, “It’s a long and very complicated history between them that had a… _unfortunate_ ending, but he never stopped loving her.”

“How…how did it end?” Bilbo asked, forgetting that Thorin had a different life before he met the stoic dwarf. And to see a softer side of their leader was as foreign to him as being in Rivendell.

“Not well.” Balin said with a sigh, looking at the man who was his king. “It didn’t matter how much he loved Lady Ayla, she is not a woman to be kept from the world. All people, all races will always need the Mother of Mercy. That, and I suspect that her heart still belongs to another man, even when she was with Thorin.”

Another man? It sounded like a romance novel some of the women back home in the Shire often giggled about and wishing that they had such romance. From what he had heard, Bilbo thought of it as one of those great tragic love stories where the hero of the story sacrifices himself so that his love may live on. Bilbo couldn’t help but stare, seeing the emotions on Thorin's face softening away the sever lines and making the dwarf look younger. While Bilbo shamelessly watched with curiosity his companions all complained of their meal being nothing but green leaves and no meat. The dwarves also complained about the soft music that was being played by the elves and Bofur took it upon himself to lift the moods of his brethren by bursting into a song well known in dwarven halls. He stole everyone’s attention as the dwarves all joined in the song, throwing their food and laughing.

Elrond watched, rather appalled by their unruly behavior and Gandalf somewhat shrank in his seat. Ayla on the other hand was enjoying it, laughing at the merriment. She had forgotten how much fun the dwarves were compared to the refine elves. And Thorin watched Ayla, having forgotten how beautiful her laughter was.

xxxxx

After dinner, Thorin walked with Ayla upon the stone path as evening descended upon them. It had been so long since he last saw the woman beside him, their last encounter being a memory he would rather forget. He still blamed himself for what happened and for driving Ayla away. He wanted nothing more than to tell Ayla how sorry he was and beg on his knees for forgiveness.

“So you’ve been here all this time…with the elves.” Thorin said, sitting beside Ayla in the small alcove where the unmarked grave was. Ayla always found herself gravitating to that place, probably because it was quiet and secluded.

“Yup, this is where I’ve been.” Ayla said, hooking one knee over the other and then lacing her fingers over her knee. “Hiding away from the world.”

“I’m glad to see that you’ve been safe and well looked after. I had thought you returned to Thranduil.” Thorin said.

Ayla tensed up at the mention of his name, recalling the last she saw of him and how he walked away from her. The memory of it still made her heart ache. She forced the memory and pain back into the crowded corner of her heart. “So I hear you’re planning to take back the mountain. That’s quite a task you took on, Thorin.” she said, changing the subject.

“It is necessary to take back what rightfully belongs to my people.”

“It’s a noble endeavor, but what about Smaug? How do you plan to kill a dragon?”

“All I need is the Arkenstone to solidify my claim as the rightful king.”

“I don’t think this quest of yours is a good idea. Some things are best left forgotten.”

“No! This has to be done.” Thorin said, standing up to turn and look at her. Ayla didn’t move from her seat, simply looking up at him calmly.

“That stone was the starting point for your grandfather’s madness; do you really want to risk it? Risk the same fate?”

“I am not my grandfather.” he said sharply, looking at her. Determination to prove her wrong burning in his eyes as he took her hand in his. “I will take back the mountain, and I will then ask for your hand again with a greater gift. I will show you then that I am a changed man.”

Ayla sighed heavily, shaking her head. “You haven’t changed and this quest of yours has already consumed you.” she pulled her hand away from his and stood up. “You should value your life and the lives of your men above gold…and above me.” 

“You’re right…” he said quietly, laughing bitterly to himself. “You’re always right.”

“You should go. I’m sure you’ll want that map read.” Ayla said, giving Thorin the hint that he was dismissed.

“Ayla,” Thorin said, and Ayla looked at him. “About what happened; I never apologized to you. For what I did to you.”

Ayla looked away from him for a moment before looking back at him. “Before you say anything let me tell you that you hurt me deeply. You let your fear overpower you and you then lashed out at me and everyone around you. What you did is hard to forgive but I mostly just want to forget and move on.”

Thorin’s throat felt tight, trying to absorb what Ayla had just told him. “I had always suspected, but you never said a thing.”

“I did tell you, but you only got angry with me and we would then end up arguing and nothing was ever resolved. Our problems only got bigger.”

“What can I do to prove to you that I’ve changed?” He watched with a sinking heart as she averted her eyes from him, how she bit her bottom lip and a crease forming between her eyebrows. It was all too clear that he had caused so much damage that the scar he made will never heal. He reached for her hand again, gently holding her fingers as he continued to stare at her. Thorin knew that even to this day her heart still belonged to the Elvenking, and it slowly ate away at him like a cancer.

She looked down at their joined hands, remembering how his large hands had touched her gently but also striked her so hard she bled. “Don’t ask me how you can prove yourself. That’s not my responsibility.” She then pulled her hand free and turned away, leaving him in her wake as she vanished around the corner. Thorin pressed a hand over his heart, feeling it break as he also left. Turning around to leave the opposite way he stopped when he saw Bilbo. The hobbit shifted nervously on his feet, his hands buried in his coat pocket.

“I uh…I wasn’t eavesdropping, I promise.” he said.

“Its fine,” Thorin said quietly as he walked past Bilbo, “I’m sure you’ve heard the stories. I deserve this pain.”

Bilbo turned to follow him, matching his pace. “Well, I’m sure there are plenty of other women out there who would be more than happy to be with a strapping dwarf such as yourself.”

“Perhaps, but they’re not her.”

“Don’t torture yourself, Thorin. What happened in the past cannot be changed and all you can do is look forward to do better in the future.” 

Thorin appreciated the hobbit’s attempts at lifting his spirits, but it did little to ease his heartache. “Have you ever been in love, Master Baggins?”

“I…I can’t say that I really have. I’ve had infatuations in my youth but love…not so much.”

“It is a wonderful but painful feeling. One moment you are soaring in the heavens and the next you are ripped apart. It’s a double-edged sword, and sometimes that sword will cut, but it is a risk worth taking when you know you’ve found the one.”

“And is she the one? Lady Ayla, I mean?”

“She is my heart’s desire.” Thorin said, “I don’t think I can ever settle for less.”

xxxxx

Fili and Kili were overjoyed to see their godmother again, sitting with her in her private alcove, admiring the scattered parchments of drawings she had created over the years while catching up with Ayla. Kili had come across a collection of drawings of a young boy and upon further investigation he saw there were more spanning from infancy to adulthood.

“Who is this, Auntie?” Kili asked.

Ayla leaned over to see and a fond smile formed on her face. “That is my son, Estel.”

Both Fili and Kili looked at her in shock. Ayla let out a light laugh at their expressions as she plucked one of her drawings from the pile, admiring it fondly.

“Is he…? He’s not…?” Fili began.

“No. Estel is adopted. His parents, unfortunately, passed away. They were the reason why I needed to leave all those years ago.” Ayla sat the picture down on the table with care, smoothing out the curling corners. “Because they’re gone I decided to raise him myself, here in Rivendell where he would be safe.”

“Where is he now?” Kili asked.

“His last letter to me said he was in Rohan but I suspect he’s moved on since then.” Ayla replied.

“So then you’ve been here all this time?” Kili asked, looking up at Ayla.

“Yes.” 

“Then why haven’t you come back?” Kili asked. Ayla reached out and stroked his messy hair. “We’ve all missed you.”

“I’ve missed you all, too, but going back would have complicated matters and honestly I missed being free to go wherever I wanted.” Ayla said, and that was the truth, or at least, part of it. The other reason she didn’t go back to the Blue Mountains was because a part of her was afraid of Thorin. The last few months leading up to her departure had been…eye opening. It was almost like witnessing Thorin succumbing to the dragon sickness like his grandfather, and she was the horded gold he coveted so jealously. 

Ayla picked up another picture, the one she was fondest of with her son sleeping soundly in the flowerbed after a morning of playing. Ayla had happened upon him by chance; finding him passed out cold with a giant butterfly perched on his curly head and a line of drool running down from the corner of his mouth. Estel must have been four at the time.

“He’s a good looking boy.” Fili said, “He was lucky to have you as his mother.”

“Thank you, Fili.” Ayla said, smiling at him. “I was lucky to be his mother.”

xxxxx

Ayla remained in her alcove long after her two godsons had left to return to the rest of their company, sitting in the bay window and gazing out at the shadowy landscape. In her lap was a crude drawing her son had made when he was a child. Looking at all the pictures she had drawn of her son had made her nostalgic of those days when he was still young. Those were some of her happiest memories, raising Estel. _Aragorn._ Now she can say she raised two sons. But now they’re both grown and no longer in need of their mother. This must be what they meant about empty nest syndrome, missing your children once they’ve moved on to live their own lives. She wanted another baby, adopted or otherwise at this point. She loved every second of motherhood.

She just wished Thranduil had…no, she couldn’t allow herself to go down that path of thinking again. It will only upset her.

She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes, remembering the days when her boys were still small. Before she knew it she had drifted off to sleep, only waking again when she felt the roughness of callused knuckles brushing her cheek. When she opened her eyes she looked up to see Thorin standing over her and it made her heart skip in surprise. In the moonlight he looked intimidating with his wild dark hair loose around his shoulders and his clothes worn out and tattered from his rough journey. But despite his rough exterior it was his eyes that bothered Ayla the most. They were sad and lost, looking at her with longing and regret.

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you.” he said gently.

“No need to worry.” Ayla replied, sitting up straight and feeling her back was tight and annoyed from where she had slept at a terrible angle. “Was there something you needed?”

“I was hoping we could talk, but it’s very late and I’m sure you’re tired.” he said, taking a step back.

“It’s fine, Thorin, we can talk now.” she said, gesturing to the empty space across from her on the bay window. He sat down, his hands clasped between his knees. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I know now that my behavior towards you in the end had been unbecoming of me. And I’m sorry if I frightened you and hurt you. Thinking back on it I was just afraid of losing you forever, and in the end that was exactly what I did.”

“Thank you for apologizing.” Ayla said, “But you know we can’t go back to how things were. We can’t be together, it wasn’t healthy for either of us.”

Thorin felt like she had dropped a boulder on him, but it was the least he deserved for what he had done. He supposed he should count his blessings that Ayla didn’t outright despise him, especially when he was responsible for killing their child. 

“We should go, I’m sure Lord Elrond and Gandalf are waiting to read that map of yours.” Ayla said, standing up from her seat. Thorin followed, stand up as well.

“Yes, let me get Balin.” 

xxxxx

“For goodness, sake, Thorin…show him the map.” said Gandalf as they stood within Elrond’s study. Their host, Ayla, Bilbo and Balin also present.

“It is the legacy of my people. It’s mine to protect, as are its secrets.” said Thorin.

“Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves!” Gandalf exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. “Your pride will by your downfall. You stand here in the presence of one of the few in Middle Earth who can read that map. Show it to Lord Elrond.”

Thorin stared up at Elrond who matched his stare. Gandalf, Balin, Bilbo and Ayla were also waiting until Ayla simply rolled her eyes and smacked Thorin in the back of the head, surprising the dwarf while Gandalf hid a smirk.

“Just give him the map, Thorin.” Ayla scolded. Bilbo was quite startled; his impression of the Lady Ayla was one with a gentle nature, not a woman who would so quickly strike a man on the back of his head.

“A voice of reason.” Gandalf clipped as Thorin begrudgingly handed the map over to Elrond who unfolded the parchment and glanced it over.

“Erebor.” Elrond said, his eyes quickly catching Ayla’s for a split second before returning to the map. “What interest is there in the map to you?” 

“It’s mainly academic.” Gandalf said, “As you know, this sort of artifact sometimes contains hidden text. You still read ancient dwarvish, do you not?”

Elrond looked at Gandalf, knowing the wizard was hiding the truth and then turned to hold the map up to the moonlight for clues. “Moon runes.”

“Of course,” said Gandalf, “An easy thing to miss.”

“Well, in this case, that is true. Moon runes can only be read by the light of a moon of the same shape and season as the day on which they were written.” Elrond said, lowering the map to look back at his guests.

“Can you read them?” Thorin asked. It didn’t go unnoticed to the dwarven prince when Elrond’s eyes glanced up to Ayla before back to him.

The elven lord motioned for them to follow as he led the way to a cavern behind the waterfall where a crystal dais sat in the light of the moon. Elrond carried the map over to the dais. “These runes were written on a midsummer’s eve by the light of a crescent moon nearly two hundred years ago. It would seem you were meant to come to Rinvendell.” He looked to Thorin with a smile. “Fate is with you, Thorin Oakenshield. The same moon shines upon us tonight.”

The light of the moon illuminated down onto the map and the hidden runes appeared at the bottom right corner of the map. _“Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the key-hole.”_

“Durin’s Day?” Bilbo asked.

“It is the start of the dwarves’ New Year, when the last moon of autumn and the first sun of winter appear in the sky together.” Gandalf informed.

“This is ill news.” Thorin said, getting everyone’s attention. “Summer is passing. Durin’s Day will soon be upon us.”

“We still have time,” Balin reassured.

“Time? For what?” Bilbo asked.

“To find the entrance.” Balin said, “We have to be standing in exactly the right spot at exactly the right time. Then, and only then, can the door be opened.”

Ayla groaned, her suspicion was right. She knew Thorin had intentions of taking back the mountain but to sneak in through a back door? That was almost has back as going through the front gates. Not to mention there were only thirteen of them! What will a handful of dwarves, a hobbit and a wizard going to do against a full grown dragon? Elrond seemed to have been on the same line of thought with her.

“So this is your purpose, to enter the mountain?” Elrond asked, looking down at Thorin.

“What of it?” Thorin asked, already coiling up and readying for an attack.

“There are some who would not deem it wise.” Elrond said, handing the map back to Thorin who took it. 

“What do you mean?” Gandalf asked.

Again Elrond had glanced at Ayla, both of them knowing something that the others obviously did not. They seemed to be having a silent conversation with their eyes before Ayla looked away. He then turned to Gandalf. “You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle Earth.” he then turned to leave, and Ayla followed right behind him, not looking or saying anything to the others.

The next day Bilbo occupied himself by wandering the grounds of Rivendell. He admired the architecture of the buildings, the details in the paintings and murals. He admired how natural the trees and plants looked, growing healthy and strong and how the structure of the buildings looked as if they were part of the mountain itself. His wandering eventually brought him to an open room that looked more like a menagerie of exotic plants that Bilbo could not recognize and in a nook sat Ayla, with a large board on her lap that had a parchment on top and her hand carefully moving over it with a piece of charcoal between her fingers. Not wanting to disturb her Bilbo made to leave but bumped into one of the pots and nearly knocked it over but caught it in time.

Ayla looked up at him and Bilbo then felt compelled to awkwardly bow to her. She let out a soft giggle. “You are traveling with Thorin, right?” she asked.

“Ah, yes.” he replied.

“And how did he manage to convince a hobbit to go on an adventure?”

“Well that’s a long story of which I doubt you’d want to hear…M-My Lady.”

“Nonsense,” Ayla said, setting aside her sketch and wiping her hands on a cloth. She waved for him to come closer and he did, nervously twiddling his fingers as he stopped in front of her. Ayla suddenly felt a strange sensation come over her, much akin to having a rush of blood go to her head. It was strange and short-lived, and she was able to shake it off before Bilbo could suspect anything as she smiled at him. “Let’s start with your name.”

“Oh, right. I am Bilbo Baggins of Bagend.” He saw her brown eyes light up.

“Baggins? You wouldn’t happen to be a descendant of Baldo Baggins, could you?”

Bilbo looked at her in wonder and confusion. “H-how would you have known my great grandfather?”

Ayla’s smile only grew, even though she felt another odd feeling come over her. It was all so very strange. Was it something she ate that morning? Doubtful but not in the realm of impossible. “I had traveled to your Shire many years ago and your great grandfather was a very hospitable host. And his wife, Berylla, she made the most delicious tea cakes I’ve ever had and she had even made a personalized handkerchief with the most beautiful embroidery work I’ve ever seen. I hope to visit the Shire again one day; hobbits are my favorite type of people.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but feel flattered as his cheeks turned rosy. “Well then, if you ever find yourself back in the Shire, you are most welcome to have tea in Bag End.”

“Well, I thank you kindly. So, how did a group of dwarves wrangle you into their mess?”

“They just showed up at my doorstep, unannounced.”

Ayla let out a light laugh, her face lighting up and her eyes sparkling with amusement. “That sounds about right. Dwarves have terrible manners, don’t they?”

“Ah-ha! Don’t get me started.” Bilbo grinned, “I’ve heard that you are friends with the dwarves.”

“Yes. For years I traveled to all seven kingdoms, extending good will and passing on secret love letters between young couples. I even traveled between the dwarves and the elves as an ambassador, trying to maintain what little relation there was between them.”

“I was told you don’t deal with your own people much.”

Ayla shook her head. “No, sadly humans don’t take too well when answering to the calls of dwarves and elves. They especially don’t like it when a woman has more authority than a man.”

“Yes, that is quite a shame. But you don’t come off as the type to abuse her power.”

“That really depends on who I’m speaking to.”

Bilbo nodded and made the move to leave but stopped when his curiosity got the better of him and he turned back to Ayla. “If I may ask, and please let me know if it’s too personal, but…I’ve heard that you and Thorin have a past?”

Ayla braced her elbows on her lap as she looked at Bilbo. “Yes, as does everyone.”

“That—that’s not what I meant. What I meant to say is—”

“I know what you meant. How about we start with what you have heard?”

“Just that Thorin…that he loved you—still¬ loves you.” he started to feel foolish for digging around for gossip. “I’m sorry; it’s not my place to pry.”

“It’s all right. If you must know, I’ve known Thorin since the day he was born. I was very good friends with his mother, Dagna, and his father, Thrain. I also was there to help deliver his younger brother and sister.”

“Wait, you were there when Thorin was born? H-how…?”

“Well, like all the other mothers I’ve helped I simply took on the role of a mid-wife.” Ayla said, “I’m immortal, remember?”

“So then…were you there when it happened? The day the dragon came?” he said her smiled fade until her lips were in a neutral state.

“Yes. I was there when the dragon came.” she said, looking at Bilbo as she leaned in closer to him. “Bilbo, if I may ask a favor from you?”

“Of course, My Lady.”

“Please look after Thorin. Be a friend that he can confide in.”

Bilbo nodded his head while his brows knitted together and he pursed his lips slightly. Clearly concerned by what Ayla was requesting of him. Another wave of dizziness was surging up and Ayla did her best to hide it as she turned her head away and closed her eyes, waiting it out. A flash of white light and blurry figures appeared before her for a split second and then it was gone. What was that?

“Will Thorin be all right?” he asked softly.

A feeling of pressure was building up in her head like a bad migraine. Where was this coming from? Gathering all her strength and will power Ayla looked back at Bilbo and gave him a gentle smile. 

“If you are with him I’m sure that I am leaving him in capable hands.” she said, doing her best to keep her voice even. “Now, please excuse me. I have a few things to finish.”

“Of course. Good day, My Lady.” Bilbo said, taking his leave. The further Bilbo was the faster Ayla’s strange headache relinquished its crushing hold on her. She wondered if there was something Bilbo carried on him that was causing her to feel this way. But that didn’t explain the brief vision she had.

xxxxx

Bilbo continued his wandering, exploring all of Rivendell until nightfall and as he returned to the wing that was given to the company to stay in he overheard voices below in the night. Down below, walking across the bridge was Gandalf and Elrond, with Ayla between them.

“…Of course I was going to tell you, I was waiting for this very chance.” said Gandalf, “And really, I think you could trust that I know what I’m doing.”

Ayla scoffed at him. “Do you? So then do you know what to do about that dragon?”

“That dragon has slept for sixty years,” Elrond said, “What will happen should your plan fail? If you wake that beast—”

“—But if we succeed? If the dwarves take back the mountain, our defenses in the East will be strengthened!” said Gandalf.

“It is a dangerous move, Gandalf.” Elrond said.

“Wrong, it’s suicidal.” Ayla corrected.

“It is also dangerous to do nothing! Oh, come now, the throne of Erebor is Thorin’s birthright. What is it you fear?” Gandalf asked.

“Have you forgotten?” Elrond asked, “A strain of madness runs deep in that family.”

“It’s true, I’ve seen it myself. His grandfather had gone mad long before that dragon even appeared; even his father had shown early signs of it.” Ayla said, stopping herself before mentioning that Thorin already had the madness.

“Can you swear Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall? Gandalf, these decisions do not rest with us alone. It is not up to you or me to redraw the map of Middle-earth.” said Elrond.

Bilbo turned around and was caught off guard to see Thorin behind him, having also heard the conversation below. The look on his face, showing a shadow of doubt. Bilbo understood that hearing two people speaking about their quest, obviously against it, must have struck a blow to his morale, especially when one of the nay-sayers was Ayla.

xxxxx

Gandalf continued to walk with Elrond and Ayla, up the steps that gently curved with the hill it was built upon. “With or without your help, these dwarves will march on the mountain. They’re determined to reclaim their homeland. I do not believe Thorin Oakenshield feels that he is answerable to anyone. Nor, for that matter, am I.”

“It is not us you must answer to.” Elrond said, looking ahead and Gandalf’s gaze followed, landing on the waiting Lady Galadriel, standing radiant in the moonlight.

“My Lady…” he said, bowing. “I had no idea that Lord Elrond had sent for you.”

“He didn’t,” came another voice. Gandalf seemed to have frozen, recognizing the voice as he slowly turned to face the leader of his order. “I have summoned this meeting.”

“Saruman.” Gandalf said.

“I’m not taking part of this.” Ayla said, making a move to leave but was stopped by Elrond.

“You are as much a part of this as we all are.” Elrond said.

“I would like to use my get-out-of-jail card.” Ayla said as Elrond “gently” pushed her forward. “I don’t want to be involved in this!” she hissed over her shoulder at Elrond who continued to strongarm her towards everyone. 

“And yet, despite your protests, you have been involved from the very beginning.” Elrond replied, his tone light as he did so enjoy making the strange woman squirm. They gathered around the round stone table, the night slowly giving way to morning as the meeting went on with the two wizards at odds with each other. Ayla was sitting in one of the seats, fighting off sleep as she found the arguing between the two old men tiresome. Galadriel stayed out of the arguing, saying very little while Elrond would intervene, trying to act as the voice of reason as he mediated between them.

“Gandalf, for four hundred years we have been at peace. A hard-won peace.” Elrond said.

“Are we? Are we at peace?” Gandalf questioned, “Trolls have come down from the mountains. They are raiding villages, destroying farms. Orcs have attacked us openly on the road.”

“Hardly a prelude to war.” said Elrond, as he looked to Ayla, half asleep in her chair. “What does our ambassador think? Lady Ayla?”

Ayla gave a little start at the sound of her name, her eyes opening to alertness before letting out a long yawn. “Gandalf, you’re looking for ghosts that don’t exist.” Ayla said tiredly as she rubbed the sleep from her tired eyes, her patience gone with all the back and forth. “Let it go.”

“Let him speak.” Galadriel said; her voice gentle and calm despite the tension in the air as she circled around them.

“There is something at work beyond the evil of Smaug. Something far more powerful.” Gandalf said, looking at each of them. “We can remain blind to it, but it will not be ignoring us, that I can promise you. A sickness lies over the Greenwood. The woodsmen who live there now call it Mirkwood.” he turned his head to look at Ayla. “They speak of a necromancer living in Dol Guldur. A sorcerer who can summon the dead.”

Ayla had to shake her head at the absurd rumor, knowing that the castle was abandoned. “And what makes you think that?”

“It’s absurd; do not be fed by such tall tales, My Lady.” Saruman said, “This… _necromancer_ is nothing less than a mortal man—a conjurer dabbling in black magic.”

“So I thought, too. But Radagast has seen—” Gandalf began.

_“Radagast?_ Do not speak to me of Radagast the Brown. He’s a foolish fellow.” Saruman said.

“Well, he’s odd, I’ll grant you that. And he does live in solitude.” Gandalf said.

“It’s not that. It’s his excessive consumption of mushrooms.” Saruman said, “They’ve addled his brain and yellowed his teeth. I’ve warned him. It is unbefitting as one of the Istari.”

Ayla let out a frustrated, tired groan. “Look, now I’m not one to argue that consuming mushrooms doesn’t affect the mind,” Ayla said, “But Radagast is harmless and timid. Sure, he knows his psychedelic plants to give you one of the best trips in your life, but I hardly think he would purposely consume a bad ‘shroom to make up a story about summoning the dead. Gandalf, if Radagast is telling the truth, can you prove it?”

Gandalf sat quietly for a moment before reaching into his grey robes and pulling out something wrapped in a heavy cloth and set it on the table.

“What is that?” Elrond asked, sensing the evil that emanated from the mystery object as he reached for the fold.

“A relic of Mordor.” Galadriel said, her words heavy with warning as Elrond revealed the blade. Ayla stood from her seat, her eyes glued to the broken sword as she felt the low pressure forming in the back of her head, slowly creeping forward. Galadriel came up to stand beside Ayla, wrapping her arms gently around Ayla’s shoulders. Almost instantly Ayla felt the pressure in his head subside, releasing the pressure. “Made for the Witch-king of Angmar…and _buried_ with him.”

“This is not possible. A powerful spell lies over those tombs.” Elrond said.

“What proof do you have that this weapon came from Angmar’s grave?” Saruman asked, remaining the skeptic.

“I have none.” Gandalf admitted.

“Because there is none.” Saruman said, “Let us examine what we know.”

“Just shut up!” Ayla snapped, silencing the wizard. “This is proof enough that a problem is coming our way. Orcs, trolls, necromancers…next you’re going to tell us that the One Ring has been found.”

Lindir approached the council, “My Lord Elrond, the dwarves, they have gone.”

Ayla let out another yawn, figuring she was free to return to her room for the night she turned to leave. She felt a lithe arm slide into hers and she looked to her left to see Lady Galadriel at her side.

“Allow me to escort you, my Lady, so we may talk.” she said, her rich voice soft and soothing. Ayla nodded her head, too tired to protest as they walked at a leisure pace together. “I have noticed the scar on your cheek has healed, and I sense that your heart has mostly healed. Your son is well, I imagine?”

“Yes,” Ayla said, a small smile on her lips. “I had received one of his letters earlier today, though I do wish they weren’t so infrequent.”

A sympathizing smile splayed out on Galadriel’s lips. “I understand the feeling, and believe me when I tell you that it does not lesson with time. I still long for the days when my child was small and full of wonder.” Ayla remembered Celebrian, having only met her once in Thranduil’s court when he was hosting one of his rather legendary parties celebrating a holiday she could not remember. Those had been happier days. Sensing Ayla’s mood turning, Galadriel stopped and gently tugged on Ayla’s arm to make her stop as well. She touched the cheek that had once bore a deep scar, now completely healed. “I suspect whatever magic is at play that keeps you young and out of death’s grip is tied to your heart. When you are happy and content, you heal quickly from even the gravest of wounds. And when you are heartbroken you heal slower than the average human.”

Ayla turned away from Galadriel’s warm touch. She had known that her strange healing ability was tied to her emotions, having pieced it together over the years. Raising Aragorn had healed her heart though she felt like she was still incomplete.

“He mourns for you; his heart weeps for his beloved.” Galadriel said softly, seeing Ayla’s shoulders tense up. “Has enough time not passed yet for you? To stubbornly keep your distance and only making both your hearts ache for an unforeseen amount of time? Is that what you truly want?”

“No, it’s just…” flashes of the day when Dale was destroyed and Smaug took over Erebor. Seeing Thranduil turn away from his allies while the people died. 

“Can you not find it in your heart to forgive him?”

Ayla blinked back the tears that were brimming in her eyes as she took in a shaky breath. “Good night, Lady Galadriel.” she said stiffly, walking the rest of the way to her quarters alone. Ayla knew what Galadriel was trying to do, obviously knowing that Ayla was still hurting from leaving Thranduil. She had to wonder if the elven beauty also knew about Thranduil agreeing to leave her in Rivendell because of Aragorn? They had both agreed that it was for the best, after all, but watching him leave that night…it had broke her heart all over again. Ayla didn’t think she was strong enough to face him again. She wasn’t ready. She was too much of a coward to ever think she will be.

Even with the right push.

xxxxx

“My Lady, if I may have a moment of your time.” Gandalf said, approaching Ayla the next morning in her small haven where she sketched her anatomical drawings. Ayla didn’t bother to stop her sketching, nor did she look up at the wizard.

“Go ahead, Gandalf.” Ayla said, having an inkling of an idea as to why he was approaching her right before he was leaving.

“I understand your stance against this quest, but I must ask for your help.”

“And what sort of help are you asking for?” Ayla asked, her hand never stopping as she continued her measured strokes on the parchment.

“Your connections. You have more allies than I who will listen to you. Your words carry more authority and respect than even Saruman’s. If you were to just hold out your hand and help Thorin in even the smallest way, it could change the course for him for the better.”

“You’re asking me to help Thorin reclaim the mountain?”

“I’m asking that you clear the path to the mountain, nothing more. You know the forest and its many tricks, without you to guide them they will be lost. Please, I am asking you as a friend to help another friend.” Ayla stopped sketching and carefully set her parchment and charcoal down. “You of all people should know what it feels like to search for your home that was out of reach. Do you not empathize at all? Would you not help your friends return to their own home?”

“You play dirty, old man.” Ayla said. Gandalf let out a breath of relief, knowing that he had her help. “Where would you like for me to start?”

xxxxx

Thorin and company had all ran into a house, scrambling to keep the door shut and the beast that was chasing them out. In a frenzy they managed to lock out the giant bear while trapping them inside for the night. 

“What was that?!” Ori asked.

“That…is our host.” Gandalf said, looking around at the perplexed faces. “His name is Beorn, he is a skin-changer.”

“And he owes me a favor.” the company all turned around, their hands at the ready to grab their weapons when they paused at the sight of Ayla, sitting at the giant table. She was dressed in elven clothes for traveling, her long dark brown hair tied back. At her feet was her pack of supplies.

“Lady Ayla?” Balin said, “How did you know we’d come here?”

“And how did she get here before us?” Kili asked, getting a shrug from his brother.

“Gandalf asked me after you all left Rivendell.” Ayla said, “Anyone injured?”

As the company settled for the night, sleeping on the floor of the house, Thorin remained awake with Ayla and Gandalf as they spoke quietly in the back corner.

“Why would you come when you were against this quest to begin with?” Thorin asked, looking at Ayla.

“Whether I approve of this or not doesn’t matter, Thorin.” Ayla said, crossing her arms under her breasts and leaning back against the wall. “I’m here now.”

“Lady Ayla knows the roads better than any of us here. With her as our guide you’ll be able to make it to the mountain with time to spare.” Gandalf said.

“It matters because she came upon your request.” Thorin said, his tone slightly bitter.

“That’s enough,” Ayla said sharply, glaring down at Thorin. “I have my doubts about this but it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t help you. Gandalf asked me because your pride wouldn’t allow it.”

“Before, back in Rivendell, you said so yourself that madness runs in my family.” Thorin said.

Ayla sighed, “Mental illness can be passed down from the parents; that is a fact, and I would hold onto the hope that you’d be the exception but you’re not.” Thorin averted his eyes from Ayla, knowing of what she spoke of.

“It’s late; let us get some much needed sleep.” Gandalf said as he turned to find a place to lay his head for the night.

Ayla sat down on the floor, pulling out a blanket from her pack. Thorin sat down beside her, getting her attention as she looked back at him. It was too dark to see his face, but she was sure that he was looking back at her. Not wanting to encourage anything, Ayla simply got up and crossed to the other side of the cottage, finding an unoccupied spot to sleep for the night.

Settling in for the night, Ayla laid her head down on her pack, using it as a pillow. Sleeping on the floor…her back was going to be angry in the morning.

As predicted, Ayla found that her back, indeed, was not at all happy to have slept on the floor all night. Sitting up stiffly, Ayla took a few minutes to stretch and try to work out the kinks in her back and neck before even attempting to stand. Quite a few of her joints popped, reminding her that she might be immortal but her body was still that of a woman in her mid-thirties. She saw that she wasn’t the first to awaken, finding Gandalf had risen before her and he greeted her with a nod of his head before he went around and began to wake the others. Ayla went to where Thorin was still sleeping and shook his shoulder and called his name softly. He woke with a start, looking up at her with surprise in his eyes before they quickly softened at the sight of her.

The sound of wood being chopped could be heard coming from outside. Bofur climbed onto a chair to a window and peered out, wiping the grimy build-up on the glass with his coat sleeve to see the silhouette of a large man outside swinging an ax.

“We cannot pass through the wilderlands without Beorn’s help. We’d be hunted down before we ever get to the forest.” Gandalf said, “Now, this will require some delicate handling. We must tread very carefully. The last person to have startled him was torn to shreds. I will go first and—Bilbo? You come with me.”

“Did you know that Beorn isn’t very fond of wizards, either?” Ayla asked pointedly, placing her hands on her hips. “I’ll come out with you, he at least _knows_ me.”

“I-is this a good idea?” Bilbo asked, uncertain of the plan.

“Yes. Now the rest of you, you just wait here and don’t come out until I give the signal. No sudden moves or loud noises and don’t overcrowd him. And only come out in pairs.”

“Hurry up.” Ayla grumbled impatiently, taking the lead out the door.

Gandalf looked back at the faces who stared up at him and he cleared his throat before following the woman with Bilbo in tow. As they approached closer to the giant man Bilbo could see Gandalf was uneasy while Ayla seemed sure of herself.

“You’re nervous.” Bilbo stated, looking up at the wizard.

“Nervous? Nonsense.” Gandalf balked.

“Good morning!” Ayla greeted, startling Gandalf as he looked to her with wide eyes.

Beorn turned to look at them as he lowered his axe, his eyes fixed on Ayla. “Lady Healer, what brings you to these parts with strange company?” he asked, his eyes looking beyond her to Gandalf and Bilbo.

“I want to start off by thanking you for your hospitality,” Ayla said.

“We took refuge in your lodgings here last night.” Gandalf said before getting an elbow to his ribs from Ayla.

“You humble me with your presence, Healer. I thought to never see you again.” Beorn said.

“Oh please, what kind of friend would I be to not visit every once in a while? I saw you’ve expanded your house last time I was here. It looks great.” Ayla said.

“And your companions …?”

“I am Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey.” Gandalf said.

“Never heard of you.” Beorn said bluntly, looking down at Bilbo. “And what is he? He’s not a dwarf is he?”

“Why no, Mr. Baggins here is a hobbit.” Gandalf said, letting Beorn’s slight roll off his back.

“What is a hobbit?”

“Not a dwarf.” Ayla interjected.

“I accept that answer.” said Beorn, “How come you’re here?”

“We have a favor to ask of you.” Ayla said.

“And what favor may that be?” Beorn asked.

“My companions and I are in need of your ponies, if you can spare a few.” Ayla said and saw that Beorn held up his ax as he looked beyond her. Ayla looked over her shoulder to see Balin and Dwalin had come out. “Ah crap.” she muttered.

“We must confess that several of our group are; in fact, dwarves.” Gandalf said, trying to take control of the situation from Ayla. From there is just fell apart as the dwarves kept coming out two at a time until finally Thorin came out. Ayla sucked in her lips between her teeth to keep herself from screaming while Gandalf fumbled with his words.

Ayla clicked her tongue in annoyance as she glared up at the wizard. “What’s the matter? Silver tongue turned to lead?” she all but mocked Gandalf as she stepped in front of him to mitigate the situation. “Beorn, we need your help.”

With Ayla calming Beorn down, the skin-changer agreed to help them and gave the company his ponies to borrow on the condition that they do not take the ponies into the forest. 

“Lady Healer,” Beorn said, looking at Ayla upon one of his ponies. “Take heed as these lands have grown more dangerous since you last traveled them. Orcs have been seen gathering each day. An alliance has been made between the orcs of Moria and the sorcerer in Dol Guldur.”

“You are not the first to warn me, thank you, Beorn.” Ayla said, reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Take care.”

Beorn nodded and walked over to Thorin, looking at the dwarf sharply. “Give me your word that the Healer will come to no harm.”

“I swear it on my honor that Ayla will stay safe.” Thorin said.

They rode out, crossing the lands swiftly. Ayla and Gandalf led the company, knowing the way to Mirkwood. When they finally arrived they dismounted at the edge of the forest and began to unsaddle the ponies. Ayla stared up into the trees, sensing something was off. These weren’t the woods she remembered, it felt…foul and foreboding, making the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stand on end. She shouldered her pack and walked to the entryway that led into the forest.

“Here lies our path through Mirkwood.” Gandalf said.

“No sign of the orcs.” Dwalin said, “We have luck on our side.”

“Set the ponies loose. Let them return to their master.” Gandalf ordered as he walked over to the gate and stood beside Ayla. “Are you ready?”

“What happened, Gandalf?” she asked, “Why does the forest feel…sick?”

“A darkness has crept into the woods since you’ve been away.” Gandalf said.

“Is there no way around?” Bilbo asked.

“Not unless you want to travel two hundred miles north.” Ayla said, looking back at the hobbit and feeling a mild headache being near him. She couldn’t explain why but ignored it. “Cutting through the forest is the fastest way to Erebor.”

Gandalf entered the woods and pulled aside overgrown ivy from a statue, seeing the mark of the necromancer graffiti on the stone. He looked back at Ayla who had also seen the mark, recognizing it. He turned and exited the forest quickly.

“Not my horse! I need it!” he said.

“You’re not leaving us, are you?” Bilbo asked in disbelief.

“I would not do this unless I had to.” Gandalf said sadly. “I’ll be waiting for you at the overlook, before the slopes of Erebor. Keep the map and key safe.” he said, approaching his horse and then stopped to turn to Thorin. “Do not enter that mountain without me.”

The company stood at the edge of the forest as it began to rain, now with Gandalf gone; they had to take extra precautions.

“You’ve lived here in the past, what should we expect?” Thorin asked, looking up at Ayla.

“This isn’t the forest I remember, I advise that we stay on the stone path.” Ayla said, “Otherwise if you stray you’ll never find it again.”

“I feel like there’s more that you’re not telling us.” Bilbo said, sensing the thick, heavy magic in the air, making him fidgety.

“You’re right,” Ayla said, “The forest is alive, the air and waters are enchanted. You’ll see illusions that aren’t real that will try to lure you off the path. And if you stray, no one will be able to help you.”

“Stay on the path. Got it.” Bilbo said.

Ayla took the lead into the woods, knowing the path better than anyone present. Though she, too, remained cautious because she had always traveled with the elves through the woods, always protected from its magic. She just hoped that the forest hadn’t forgotten her. They traveled deep into the woods until all light had been blocked out by the thick canopy of the trees. The deeper they went, the darker it felt, making them lose all sense of time. Their path soon became hard to see as they had to tread carefully with each step to make sure that they remained on course. The magic in the air was almost choking Ayla, making her lightheaded.

When they finally came to the bridge that would take them over the enchanted stream, they were met with a complication: The bridge was broken, forcing the company to find another way across.

“These vines look strong enough to cross.” Kili said, making a move to start when Thorin stopped him.

“Kili! We send the lightest first.” Thorin said, and all heads turned to Bilbo. As the hobbit began to test the strength of the vines as he crossed the stream Thorin looked up at Ayla. “Are you holding up all right?”

“I’m fine, but I don’t think I can use the vines to cross.” Ayla said.

“You’ll make it across; I’ll make sure of it.” Thorin said.

“No, the gap isn’t that wide. I think I can just jump across.” Ayla said, walking onto what was left of the bridge to gage the distance with her eyes. She knew the forest was playing tricks on her, making the gap seem larger than it actually was. She took her pack off her shoulders and threw it across, seeing it land on the other side.

“Ayla, don’t.” Thorin said, trying to stop her as she walked back so that she could get a running start. “Ayla, NO!” he yelled, everyone stopping as they saw Ayla run and then leap across the gap of the bridge. Everyone held their breaths as their eyes followed her, watching as she landed on the other side as she rolled her body over the ground after landing. Everyone finally exhaled in relief when she made it safely. Thorin especially as he tried to reign in and calm his pounding heart.

Ayla waited for them on the other side, helping Bilbo first as he made it, shaking his head out of the fog.

“Something is not right, at all.” he mumbled.

Once everyone had crossed safely they continued on. Their minds all becoming clouded as the stifling air and the lack of sense of time was beginning to take effect. It was difficult to not lose focus as it became harder to stay on the path.

“There! That way!” Thorin said, marching through the trees.

“Wait! Thorin! Stay on the path!” Ayla said, though she was just as affected by the woods as they all were. Soon they became lost, traveling in circles. Madness began to descend upon the group as they started to fight amongst each other. 

“Stop it!” Bilbo said, trying to break the fights up.

“Bilbo,” Ayla said tiredly, dropping to her knees to look at the hobbit. Her mind felt fuzzy and her headache had grown into a throbbing migraine for being so close to Bilbo. “Climb up the trees and tell us if you see anything.”

Bilbo nodded and began to climb. Ayla shook her head again, trying to clear the fog as she leaned against the tree to balance her weight as she stood up. Her hand then was caught on something sticky. When she blinked her eyes a few times she saw a film of white, stringy threads covering the trees all around them. When she looked up she let out a scream as a giant spider descended upon her, grabbing her and wrapping her up in its web. She heard the others scream as they, too, were taken by the spiders. Ayla struggled against the strong fibers as panic flooded her brain and her adrenaline kicked in, telling her to fight, but she was also still fogged up from the forest’s magic, making her weak and tired.

She heard the spiders hissing and clicking their fangs and then she suddenly felt herself dropping and then landing on the forest floor. She felt other struggling bodies landing all around her and she hoped it was the others as she struggled to rip the webs off of her.

“Ayla!” she heard Thorin as he cut through the webs and helped her out. The dwarves all took up their weapons and fought back against the spiders, though they, too, were weakened by the forest’s magic. Thorin guarded Ayla against the spiders when suddenly arrows began to fly out of nowhere, striking the spiders. Looking up, Ayla saw the elves of the forest coming down from the trees, fighting off the spiders. One elf landed behind Ayla and killed a spider that was sneaking up from behind. When she turned she was met with a familiar face that also looked back at her in surprise. “Legolas?”

_“Naneth!”_ Legolas said softly, before looking away and quickly shooting an arrow at another spider, striking it between its multiple eyes. Once the chaos of exterminating the giant spiders had ended, the company found themselves surrounded by elves, their sharp arrows pointed directly at them. One stepped forward, the Prince of the Realm, staring coldly down at the dwarves, his glare as cold as their color.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you, dwarf.” he demanded coolly, his arrow trained on Thorin.

Ayla quickly stepped in front of him. “Stop it. They are not your enemy.”

“Lady Ayla,” said Tauriel, bewildered to see her in the company of dwarves. 

“Legolas, let the dwarves pass through the woods. Please.” Ayla said.

_“I cannot allow trespassers to wander freely through these woods and therefore we must take them as our prisoners.”_ Legolas said in Sindarin, _“I know these alliances are important to you but I must obey the orders of my King.”_

Ayla narrowed her eyes at him and placed her hands on her hips. _“Your King orders their arrest?”_ she asked in the same language that had taken her years to master. _“Of course he would. Why would I expect anything else from him?”_

_“Much has changed since you left. Had you stayed you would know.”_ Legolas said, suddenly cold towards Ayla as he revealed to her that he, too, had been affected by her leaving. Legolas gave the order to take the dwarves’ weapons, one elf bringing forth Thorin’s sword to the prince, recognizing it immediately and glared down at Thorin. “Where did you get this?” he demanded.

“It was given to me.” Thorin said.

“Not just a thief, but a liar as well.” Legolas said.

“Enough!” Ayla said angrily, _“Your prejudice is equally as disgusting.”_

_“And your loyalties for these dwarves is misplaced.”_ Legolas said before giving the order to take in the prisoners. The dwarves’ hands were all tied in strong elven rope and were herded along like sheep. Ayla was the only one to not be treated like a prisoner as she followed behind Legolas and Tauriel through the forest.

Despite her anger and disappointment towards Legolas acting exactly like his father, her head, at least, was beginning to clear up in their presence as the magic of the forest left her. Upon entering through the gates Ayla was overcome by nostalgia as she took in the beautiful world around her, remembering it fondly. Unfortunately the circumstances she was in made her stomach feel like there was a lead ball in it as she grew nervous to see the one man she had been hoping to avoid. The last time she saw the Elvenking had left her heart shattered to pieces. She could only watch helplessly as everyone except for her and Thorin be taken away, down towards the dungeons while they continued onward towards the throne where Thranduil sat in his usual pompous manner. 

He was still as beautiful as she remembered, looking so perfect and godly upon his throne carved into the root of an ancient tree. Upon his head was his seasonal crown of autumn leaves and berries, only enhancing his beauty. Though as distracting as his beauty was, his cold demeanor was what kept her from falling completely under his spell. His grey eyes locked with Ayla’s brown ones, holding her gaze and freezing her in place, paralyzing her will to rebel. 

“Some may imagine that a noble quest is at hand.” he began, his velvety voice wrapping itself around her as she and Thorin stood before him. Thranduil rose from his throne and descended the steps towards them, his gaze now fixed on Thorin. “A quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon. I myself suspect a more prosaic motive. Attempted burglary or something of that ilk.” The air around him had returned to that chill from when they first met his stare cold and his words just as icy. He clasped his hands behind his back as he looked down at Thorin as if the dwarf were a fly in his spiced wine. “You have found a way in. You seek that which would bestow upon you the right to rule. The King’s Jewel; the Arkenstone.”

He moved gracefully, standing before them, tall, proud, and incredibly arrogant. Everything that Ayla had once hated about him but now found it irresistibly sexy. She had to force herself to not look directly at him, trying her hardest to stay calm as old wounds began to slowly reopen, making her heart beat a hundred times per second. She felt a little light-headed.

“It is precious to you beyond measure. I understand that. There are gems in the mountain that I, too, desire. White gems of pure starlight.” Thranduil’s grey eyes didn’t look away from Thorin, not betraying himself to the dwarf by glancing at Ayla as he placed a hand over his chest and bowed his head ever so slightly. “I offer you my help.”

Thorin let out a low chuckle as he smirked. “I’m listening.”

“I will let you go…if you but return what is mine.” Thranduil said; keeping his eyes focused on Thorin.

“A favor for a favor.” Thorin mused, seeing that he may have leverage after all.

“You have my word. One _King_ to another.”

“I will not trust…Thranduil…the Great King…to honor his word.” Thorin said, his voice rising to echo throughout the Realm. “Should the end of all days be upon us! _You! _Who lack all honor! I have seen how you treat your friends.” he said, looking pointedly to Ayla and then back at the Elvenking. “We came to you once, starving, homeless, seeking your help. But you turned your back! You turned away from the suffering of my people! And the inferno that destroyed us!”__

__Enraged, Thranduil swooped down on Thorin, lowering his head to be in his face. “Do not talk to be about dragon fire.” he hissed, “I know its wrath and ruin. I have faced the great serpents of the north.” he pulled back, standing tall again. “I warned your grandfather of what his greed would summon. Even the Lady Ayla had warned him of his creeping madness. But he would not listen. You are just like him.” he waved a hand and immediately two of his guards took hold of Thorin, dragging him away to the dungeons. “Stay here if you will…and rot. A hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an elf. I’m patient. I can wait.”_ _

__He returned to his throne, sitting down upon it and resuming his previous posture. His eyes finally descended upon Ayla whom he had yet to decide her fate. He had not expected to see her again, especially not in the company of dwarves led by Thorin Oakeshield. He had thought Ayla would once more vanish into the wide world now that her son was grown and flown from the nest. But should he really be that surprised? After all, it was the dwarves she had ran off to, and it was because of the dwarves that she did not return. It was somewhat amusing, to see her like this. Dirty and travel-worn, covered in spiders webs, dead leaves and mud. It was almost a reflection of their very first encounter._ _

__“Nothing to say?” he asked, wondering why she wasn’t lashing out at him for his cruelty and selfishness. “Have the years away leashed your tongue?”_ _

__She looked up at him, showing him her stubbornness that he remembered. The defiance burning within her brown eyes. He knew the words were ready to come out from her mouth but still she said nothing. Denying him the backlash of her wit before her closed lips. He was not going to be made the fool in this game of wills as he waved his hand for another guard who took Ayla away._ _

__xxxxx_ _

__Hours had gone by as Ayla sat in her old room. She had not been taken to the dungeons where her friends were being held. No, throwing her in the dungeon like the rest was too easy. Instead of being locked away in the cold dungeons, she was locked away in her old room, surrounded by the bare essentials again. Though she was comfortable unlike Thorin and his company. All of her things that had been left behind were either thrown away or still in Thranduil’s wing, left to collect dust. It felt strange to be back, almost surreal as she stared out into the forest. The same smell of dirt and pine lingered in the air, but it did not mask the slight sourness of decay._ _

__Earlier a servant had come in to fill her bath and bring her fresh clothes. It was a different servant, not her usual handmaiden Ester. She also had guards outside her door keeping her inside her room. No one would speak to her; inform her of her friends if they were all right or not. It was obvious that they had all been ordered to not say a word to her, which annoyed Ayla greatly, but then again it was probably _his_ way of getting back at her for keeping her silence. But what could she have said to him? She didn’t trust herself to say the right things as her mind flashed back to the last time she saw him. It had been for the best that she kept her mouth shut when she did, otherwise she probably would have been thrown in the dungeon._ _

__And yet her heart ached for him._ _

__xxxxx_ _

__(Past)_ _

__“We’re here together on this day because…?” Ayla looked up from her menu at Pamela. They had both managed to get the same day off from the hospital they were training at, and lucky them, it was Valentine’s Day. And the restaurant Pamela chose had a ceiling littered with red, pink and white balloons with glittery ribbons of the same colors streaming down, and when walking around they were annoyingly in your face. It was a nauseating décor of poor taste that would make Martha Stewart vomit in disgust._ _

__“Because it’s fun to go out on a couple’s holiday with your best friend.” Pamela said, “Besides, if we pretend to be a lesbian couple we might actually get a break from perverts tonight.”_ _

__“That’s shocking coming from you.” Ayla said._ _

__“Hi there, my name is Karl and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you ladies with a drink?” said Karl, holding up a note pad and pen as he waited for their order. “May I recommend a glass of—”_ _

__“Red wine.” they both said together without looking at Karl._ _

__“Okay, and would you also like—”_ _

__“Leave the bottle.” they said together. Karl wrote it down and walked away._ _

__“So, I overheard you talking on the phone with your mom today. Everything all right?” Pamela asked. Pamela was very familiar with the strained relationship Ayla had with her mother._ _

__“It’s nothing unusual. She’s just trying to interfere with my life again by telling me which field of medicine to pursue. She wants me to go into plastics now. Something about Jackson needing a nose job. Blah blah blah.” Ayla said in annoyance._ _

__“Doesn’t she realize that you hate her?”_ _

__“I’m sure she knows but pretends to be ignorant.”_ _

__“Why not just ignore her calls? That’s what I do with my parents.”_ _

__“It gives me a reason to vent, plus a part of me likes to piss her off. My favorite topic being what a disappointment I turned out to be.”_ _

__“Shit and I thought my relationship with my parents was dysfunctional. Are you and Greg doing all right?”_ _

__“You’re rather nosy tonight. What’s it to you if we’ve been fighting?”_ _

__Pamela laced her fingers together atop of the table to keep them down; she had never liked Greg and had always been vocal about how Ayla deserved someone better. “You guys fight all the time, I don’t understand how you can be on and off with him for a year now. He didn’t even call you today.”_ _

__Ayla shrugged her shoulders. “That’s because we’re off again. And this time for good. So how’s your sex life?”_ _

__Pamela frowned, “Soryn, I’m serious; I’m really worried about you. You’re never happy with him and as your friend I want to see you happy with someone who deserves someone as amazing as you.”_ _

__“Pam, can we please drop this? This holiday was hard enough hiding alone in my apartment after breaking up with Greg again, and being dragged out here—reminded of what I don’t have…I just want a night of no bullshit.”_ _

__Their waiter returned then with two glasses and a bottle of house wine, pouring them each a glass and leaving the bottle at their table. “Are you ladies ready to order?”_ _

__“Can we have more time looking at the menu?” Pamela asked and Karl nodded his head._ _

__“Of course, I’ll be back.” he said before dashing off to another table._ _

__“You still have me, Ayla.” Pamela said, reaching out and putting her hand on top of Ayla’s. “You will always have me at your back.”_ _

__Tears stung Ayla’s eyes and she quickly pulled her hand away, taking her cloth napkin with dab at her eyes just as their waiter returned, looking a little uncomfortable at the sight of Ayla’s tears._ _

__“She’s just crying because I proposed.” Pamela said to Karl with a smile._ _

__“Oh, um, congrats. I can come back again to give you both another moment.” Karl said._ _

__“Thanks.” Pamela said._ _

__Ayla managed to pull herself together and folded her napkin down on her lap. “I was actually ready to order.”_ _

__xxxxx_ _

__(Present)_ _

__Thranduil had hoped that Ayla would come to her senses and see his reasoning for imprisoning the dwarves, though he shouldn’t have been so surprised by her response. The way she stood with her arms crossed tightly in front of her, her shoulders stiff and tense, and her jaw set. She had turned away everyone who came to her door, not accepting food or water for the full night and day she had been there. She did not bathe in the bath that had been prepared for her, allowing the water to cool, and remained in her filthy clothes and the dried mud that had caked itself on her._ _

__Even when still dirty with mud and sweat, and her dark brown hair looking almost black from being unwashed for days, she was still beautiful in his eyes. She was still Ayla. Thranduil took calculated steps towards her, watching her back intently as he approached. He knew she was aware of him; he made no secret of his entry into her space and settled himself to stand behind her._ _

__“You have no right to treat them so poorly.” she said, her voice tense._ _

__“I have every right. They entered my kingdom. That is crime enough; the very fact that they’re dwarves makes it more just.” Thranduil said._ _

__She whipped around to look at him, anger flashing through her eyes. Ah…finally, a reaction. “And throwing them in prison was your response?”_ _

__“I would not trust them so fully as you already have. What intentions do they have for awakening that dragon? It will only bring further ruin upon them and all who lay within the dragon’s path of destruction. Will you allow that to happen? Watch as lives are destroyed all due to the ambitions of another dwarf’s greed?”_ _

__She closed her eyes, reigning in her temper before opening them and looking up at him. “They lost _everything._ Their home, their family, their history…they’re fading away.”_ _

__“Then let them fade.”_ _

__She looked at him, startled by his coldness towards the people he had once been allies with. She couldn’t believe this was the same man, no, that’s not right...this was the cold Elvenking she had first met all those centuries ago. Having resurfaced while she was away. “When did you become so heartless?”_ _

__“I am not the heartless one here.” he said coldly, grabbing her upper arms firmly in his grip. “You left against my orders and then chose to never come back. I waited for you. Foolishly thinking that you would come back to me. Then I learn through reports that you had gone to the Blue Mountains to be with the dwarves where you remained for years before I found out by chance that you had gone to Rivendell where I find you raising someone else’s son. You call me heartless, but it is you who is heartless…telling me you love me and then you run off with my heart.” Fat tears spilled from her eyes and her bottom lip quivered but his hold on her remained. He needed answers._ _

__Ayla looked into his eyes, “You know that I couldn’t leave Aragorn…” she said, her voice soft and straining back from sobbing. “I couldn’t leave him. He needed me.”_ _

__“And after he was grown? Did you not think to return then? Were you still angry then?” he asked, his temper rising as he gave her shoulders a firm shake. “Answer me! Had you not once thought of me? Do you despise me so much?”_ _

__“I wanted to…but I couldn’t come back.” she choked out, her tears still falling._ _

__“Tell me why!” he demanded, tightening his grip. **“Why?”**_ _

__“Because I was scared!” she blurted out, feeling her body tremble from the adrenaline pumping through her._ _

__Thranduil was stunned speechless, not expecting the answer to pierce his heart like an arrow. Realization began to rise as the anger was suddenly replaced with something he had not felt since the death of their unborn child…heartache. She pulled away as soon as his grip became slack, backing away from him as her heart broke all over again. The shame of how many nights she had pined for him, how she would make plans to travel back to the Woodland Realm and even get as far as packing a bag but then chickened out in the end. The image of his back as he walked out the door in Rivendell always replaying in her mind._ _

__Fear had held her back._ _

__She was afraid that she was no longer good enough for him. That he deserved better. That she didn’t deserve him and his love._ _

__That she didn’t deserve love at all._ _

__She flinched when she felt his hands holding her face, his thumbs wiping away the tears as he tilted her face up to look at him. She saw in his eyes reflecting her pain, reflecting everything she had wanted to spare him of. “You held onto this pain…all on your own?” he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper. “Did you think I would have turned you away?” She squeezed her eyes tightly, more tears falling. “Ayla, look at me.” she slowly opened her eyes and looked up at him. She looked up into his grey eyes, showing her that he still cared. His mask melting away like ice on a hot summer day. Thranduil closed the gap that was between them and wrapped his arms around her shoulders and back, hugging her close and closing his eyes as he released a sorrowful sigh._ _

__Had he truly given her such a reason to be afraid?_ _

__“I’m sorry,” she hiccupped, hugging his waist tightly. “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry...”_ _

__He allowed Ayla to cry until she had no tears left to shed. He took her inside and laid her on the bed; sitting beside her as she laid her head on his lap and he stroked her oily hair until she fell asleep. He watched her sleep, taking in her pallor and the dark circles under her eyes. The hollowness of her cheeks, the dryness of her skin and her chapped lips, his earlier rage had been extinguished by her tears. Now all that remained were charred wounds of hurt pride at the failure to recognize that she had been suffering as much as he._ _

__“You broke my heart...and though I thought ill of you I had been waiting for you.” he said softly. All that was left was for them to heal together. Perhaps now they will have the time._ _

__xxxxx_ _

__Ayla awoke hours later, alone, and feeling emotionally raw. She recalled everything, Thranduil’s anger towards her and then her confession of being a coward. What did he think of her now? What else did she say? She couldn’t remember and she was afraid…incredibly afraid now that he knew, and she was afraid of how he will then look at her. She didn’t want him to look at her with pity. What should she do? Jump out the window and make a run for it? That seemed too cliché._ _

__She bathed in the full tub; the water cold now and making her wish she had bathed when it was still hot. The spider webs tangled in her hair were a challenge to get out, and by the time she was clean the bath water was murky from the mud and filth from the woods. She changed into the clothes that had been provided for her, one of her old gowns. It was simple and comfortable to wear, light and warm, but not practical for traveling like her other clothes she wore. Once she was clean and dressed there was little else for her to do but sit around and wait. Her damp hair had been combed through and hung over one shoulder to air dry. She wanted to leave her room but knew there had been guards posted outside her door, keeping her trapped inside._ _

__She went to the fireplace and lit a fire to warm her room, and as the fire slowly grew she grabbed a throw blanket from the chaise lounge and wrapped it around her shoulders before returning to the fireplace and sat down beside it, letting the warm heat dry her hair a little faster. She looked up when she heard the door open, expecting to see Thranduil again but was surprised to see instead Legolas. He walked over to her and sat down beside her. They sat there quietly, and Ayla could tell he had something to say. She recalled the sharp words they had exchanged in the forest and vaguely wondered if he had come to apologize or wanting an explanation. Either way she felt tense with anticipation._ _

__“I’m sorry, _Naneth.”_ he began, and Ayla felt relief in her chest. “I should never have spoken to you like that. I know that you were merely protecting them and I had allowed my bitterness to cloud my judgment.”_ _

__Ayla leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder. “It’s all right. I deserved it after abandoning you the way I did.”_ _

__“You did what you thought was right back then, I see that now.” he said, “You put us all to shame by showing how much heart you have by putting others above yourself. You have more honor than I do most times.”_ _

__“I never wanted to hurt you or anyone, but I was just so angry at him.”_ _

__“Was that the reason why you didn’t come back? Because you were angry with my father?”_ _

__“At first…but the further I got, the more I realized how childish I’ve been for letting my pride drive me away. But then…something happened and because of it I couldn’t bring myself to come back willingly.”_ _

__“What happened?”_ _

__Ayla fell silent, feeling her chest squeeze and her stomach tighten. She was feeling her anxiety returning._ _

___“Naneth?”_ _ _

__She took in a calming breath. “I...it’s too complicated.”_ _

__“Complicated, like raising another man’s child?” Legolas asked._ _

__Ayla groaned and wondered what “version” of the story Thranduil told Legolas. “I adopted him and raised him as my own because he had no one.” She lifted her head up and looked at him. “Estel came ten years after the dragon first attacked. He saved me in so many ways.”_ _

__Seeing her smile at the mention of her adopted son, it made Legolas feel worse for having harbored so much bitterness towards her, thinking so low of her to have broken his heart and that of his father’s. He smiled softly back at her. “He was lucky to have you as his mother. As was I.”_ _

__She turned her head and looked into the fire. “It’s funny how alike you two are. You two would have gotten along so well.”_ _

__“Where is he now?”_ _

__“Hmm…that’s an excellent question. Last I heard he was somewhere in Rohan but that was months ago, I’m sure he’s moved on by now. Of course I told him to not use his real name.”_ _

__“What name is he using?”_ _

__“I forget, but it was definitely not very imaginative.”_ _

__“I’d like to meet him.”_ _

__“I’m sure you will, he has a habit of showing up unexpectedly and always hungry.” Ayla said with a slight giggle._ _

__Legolas smiled, “Like you?”_ _

__She let out a laugh at that. “Yeah, like me.”_ _

__Legolas eventually left, leaving Ayla feeling less burdened. Eventually sitting on the floor put her legs to sleep and then moved to the chaise lounge, laying on her side and closing her eyes. Slowly, she drifted off to sleep, her mind wandering to the dungeon and to her friends locked before bars. The troubling thought kept her from sleeping too deeply and when she next woke she was met with Tauriel at her side._ _

__“I do not mean to disturb you, My Lady.” she said, lowering her head in submission even though Ayla was the prisoner. “But I’ve come for your council on a delicate matter.”_ _

__Ayla rubbed her eyes as she pushed herself up into a sitting position and then surprised the Captain of the Guard by hugging her tightly. “There’s no need for formalities, Tauriel. We’re still friends, right?”_ _

__“Of course, My Lady.” Tauriel said, hugging Ayla back before the other finally released her._ _

__“What do you need?” Ayla asked. The Captain of the Guard looked into her eyes and showed that she was troubled by something._ _

__“The spiders from the woods, the ones that attacked you, more will come and I wish to go to their source and eradicate them completely. But Lord Thranduil forbids it.”_ _

__“Why would he forbid that?”_ _

__“Because the spiders come from Dol Guldur, and he forbids us from leaving our borders. He has no concern of the darkness spreading to the outside world.”_ _

__Ayla bit the inside of her cheek, her earlier woes gone and replaced with dread as terrible memories of that placed resurfaced. She remembered it as an evil place where orcs had kidnapped her and killed her baby while it was still inside her. “I can’t help you, Tauriel. I’m powerless to do anything.”_ _

__“You can try to persuade him. Show him that actions must be taken to protect not only our lands but the rest of the world as well.”_ _

__She gave her a rueful smile. “I doubt he’ll listen to me. But I share your concern, Tauriel.”_ _

__The elf looked down in disappointment, but she understood Ayla’s situation. Her current position. “Thank you for your time, My Lady.” she stopped when Ayla took her hand._ _

__“Are they all right? The dwarves?” Ayla asked. Tauriel raised her eyes up at Ayla._ _

__“They are as well as they can be in the dungeons.”_ _

__Ayla rose to her feet, feeling s surge of strength. “Will you take me to them? Please? I need to see for myself.”_ _

__The red-haired elf hesitated a moment before she smiled kindly at Ayla. “It’s the least I can do for everything you’ve done for me.” She helped Ayla slip away from her room through the balcony, avoiding being seen by other guards as they made their way towards the dungeons. Once there, Tauriel looked down the steps that lead towards the cells where the dwarves were being held. Seeing no guards around. “Be quick, my Lady.”_ _

__Ayla practically flew down the stairs, looking into each cell and checking in on them all. They were all cold and starved in their cells, but at least they were all okay for the time being. She came to Thorin’s cell last, finding the dwarf pacing back and forth._ _

__“Thorin,” Ayla called softly, getting his attention. He rushed to the cell doors and reached out through the bars for her hands. “Your hands are like ice.”_ _

__“I’ll be fine. They’re not mistreating you, are they?” he asked, looking up at her, noticing for the first time the dark circles under her eyes. Ayla shook her head and dropped down to her knees, wishing she could help them escape but her powers were limited and she was being watched constantly. Thorin reached out and touched her cheek, raising her face up to look at him. “Ayla…”_ _

__“Where is Bilbo? I didn’t see him in here.” she whispered._ _

__“I don’t know where he is, but Ayla…you must stay safe. Your part in this company…I will never forgive myself if you got hurt because of my ambitions.”_ _

__“Thorin, I’m going to find a way to get you out of here.”_ _

__“Please, Ayla,” he pressed closely into the bars as he lowered himself to eye level with her. He lowered his voice so that only she could hear him. “I love you too much to ask that you risk your life for me. I would rather die first than see you get hurt by my selfishness. As much as it pains me to say this, you’re safest here with the elves. They will at least protect you.”_ _

__She looked into his eyes sadly, unable to say another word as her voice was paralyzed with the fear of saying something she would come to regret. She knew he loved her, he told her every chance he got but she couldn’t return the same feelings. In truth, she never did. Her heart forever remained with Thranduil. He pulled her face close and kissed her through the bars before pulling back to look into her eyes one more time._ _

__“My Lady,” came Tauriel’s voice, alerting Ayla that her time was up. Standing up she looked at Thorin one last time before she hurried back up the steps, passing by the other cells but unable to look at the occupants. Tauriel helped her back to her room, again keeping out of sight from other elves._ _

__“Thank you, Tauriel.” Ayla said softly._ _

__“Will you be all right?” Tauriel asked, concerned of how upset Ayla looked._ _

__“No, but I will get through this.” Ayla said, “It’s just hard to see my friends treated this way while I’m sitting in relative comfort. It’s not right.”_ _

__Alone again in her room, Ayla was resigned to sitting up on the chaise lounge, leaning against her raised knees as she stared out the window. Seeing her friends locked up in the dungeon, it was more upsetting than she had anticipated it to be. She wanted nothing more than to steal the keys and free them but she knew that she would get caught and the guards would stop her before she could even get the first key ready. She didn’t want to dwell on such unpleasant thoughts; she would rather be in denial and pretend everything was all right. But her mind disobeyed her wish to avoid upsetting thoughts. She felt so stupid, leaving him out of anger all those years ago. If she had simply returned then maybe… No. No, she couldn’t punish herself and dwell on the different scenarios she had already gone through in her head. What was done is done. This was all her fault. The rift between them was her doing, but it was too late to change the past. All she could hope for was his forgiveness, if he was in a forgiving mood. If she was lucky he might just never bring it up and they can both move on with their lives…separately._ _

__Separately…_ _

__She then thought of Thorin and touched her lips lightly with her fingertips. The kiss in the dungeons…she was a horrible person. Wretched and undeserving of such devotion. The two men in her life…she already broke their hearts too many times. She felt like crying again and hated herself for feeling so much self pity. Why couldn’t she go back to the uncaring bitch she was before? Why did she have to change so much?_ _

__The day went by slow and quiet. The servant from before returned; bringing a bowl of fruit and nuts and setting them on the table before leaving quietly. Hunger shot through her as she picked up an apple and took a large bite from it, the crisp crunch and the explosion of juice in her mouth only made her hunger for more. But she had to pace herself, knowing her limits and forced herself to slow down and chew each bite thoroughly lest she choked on a chunk (she had already died once that way and that had been embarrassing to come back from)._ _

__She walked back out onto the veranda, resting her elbows on the rail as she looked out at the changed forest. She had been told the forest was sick with a darkness from Dol Guldur. She had been in Middle Earth shortly after the defeat of Sauron, recalling the suspicion and wariness of the people back then. Her arrival and mysterious origins made people paranoid and fearful of her, she had only been lucky when King Isildur had seen what she did for his soldiers and took pity on her for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. If the rumors were true then they were on the verge of another dark age._ _

__If she listened closely enough she could hear the distant merriments of the elves of the Realm, celebrating Mereth Nuin Giliath: the Feast of Starlight. Out of all the elven holidays (and there were so few), she enjoyed this one the most. She closed her eyes and remembered fondly the beautiful songs that were sung, the joyful laughter and the spiced wine. And his beautiful face, smiling at her as they danced together under the stars._ _

__“I see you’re finally eating.” came Thranduil’s voice, pulling Ayla back to the present as she opened her eyes and turned around to face him, her half-eaten apple still in her hand as she returned inside. He walked into her room, setting down a bottle of wine and two silver goblets on the table next to the bowl of fruit and nuts._ _

__“I wasn’t expecting you to come back so soon.” she said softly, watching him as he filled the two goblets of the ruby liquid, the sweet fragrance of the wine reaching her nose. She was nervous to be in his presence again, wondering what to do or say or act. Should she simply act like usual? Use playful banter like they used to? No, even the thought of it felt uncomfortable._ _

__“And why wouldn’t I?” he asked, picking up the goblets and walking around the small table towards her, handing her one which she took. She set her half-eaten apple back into the bowl and took a sip of the spiced wine. Sweet and tart, just like she remembered. He watched her carefully for a moment, taking in her timid posture. “I want to clear the air between us,” he began, gaining her attention as she looked up at him. “I had allowed my resentment towards you to blind me when last we spoke and I know I had frightened you. For that I am deeply sorry. Had I known about the burden you had been carrying…I should have set my pride aside and gone after you, perhaps then the outcome would have changed.”_ _

__Ayla looked down into her cup, feeling a shadow of the pain she used to feel echoing in her chest. “I’m sorry, too. I regret a lot things and running from you is the one I regret the most.”_ _

__“Are you willing to start over? Be a part of this Realm again at my side?”_ _

__She felt like weeping at that very moment as she closed her eyes to hold back the tears. When she opened them again to look up into his grey eyes, she felt nothing but warmth spreading out from her chest, soothing the remnants of past hurt. She allowed herself to open her heart again, hoping beyond hope that this time…this time she will get it right. But then she thought of Thorin and the others still locked away in the dungeon. She lowered her eyes, suddenly feeling conflicted between her desire and the promise she made._ _

__Sensing her inner struggle, Thranduil raised his hand to cup the side of her face. He understood her dilemma, especially when he knew that she was helping Thorin on his foolish quest. Her heart was too big and her net of generosity was cast too far for her own good. He had to make her see that her role with the dwarves is done. He set his cup down and took hers and added it to the table before he drew her close, holding her gently in his embrace._ _

__“Ayla, is it worth risking your life for them?” he asked quietly while stroking her hair. “You owe them no loyalties.”_ _

__“I made a promise to help them through the forest, that was all.” she said, “As soon as they’re safely out of the forest then my part is done.”_ _

__Of course she would promise such a thing. How could he have thought otherwise? “Then it’s a shame that your promise will go unfulfilled.” he said, pulling his warmth away from her as he picked his goblet up once more, taking a few swift steps towards the open archway that led out to the veranda where the moonlight shined through, casting its soft glow onto him._ _

__Ayla felt a swirl of insult and embarrassment rise from the pit of her stomach. She felt so stupid. Why did she think otherwise? _“Clear the air,”_ he said, inviting her back to his side with gentle touches and seductive words to lower her guard. He was obviously toying with her, pulling on the strings of her emotions, using her pain and guilt against her. A tear fell down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away while she struggled to rally the rest from pouring from her eyes. _ _

__“You’re so cruel.” she said softly, knowing he could hear her._ _

__“Am I?” he asked, approaching her again, circling around her like she was his prey. Reenacting their first meeting when she first came to the Woodland Realm all those centuries ago. “I am not the one giving that dwarf hope where there is none. I’ve seen how Thorin Oakenshield looks at you; I know it was he whom you have been with in the Blue Mountains. Possibly warming his bed to further insult me. Though years have passed and you more than likely grew bored of that dwarf, you had then ran off to Rivendell where you raised another man’s child. Now you yet again lead him on, dangling the treat in front of him just far enough where he can barely reach. You call me cruel yet you are the cruelest of all.”_ _

__She swallowed a lump in her throat, the sweetness of the wine on her tongue now sour. The way he summarized her life after leaving him, making her out to be nothing more than a gold digger looking for sympathy. It was unfair of him to put it in such a harsh way._ _

__“It is not my intent to cause you more heartache,” he said softly, stopping in front of her. “But you need to open your eyes to the truth. Should Thorin and his company of dwarves awaken the dragon, then they will bring about more ruin and heartache, and you will once more run away with your misplaced feelings of guilt. You have given too much of yourself and how has the world thanked you? The humans have driven you from their cities with fire and violence. The dwarves use you for their greed and ambition. How much longer do you plan to remain ignorant?”_ _

__She was powerless under his scrutinizing stare as the tears she had fought to keep back spilled forth and cascaded down her cheeks. What could she say to redeem herself when he stripped her raw to the bone?_ _

__She couldn’t look at him as she lowered her head._ _

__“You’ve made your point,” she croaked, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands. She walked away from him, needing physical space before she did something she was going to regret. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling like she was about to crumble into a deep black void_ _

__“Ayla…”_ _

___“WHAT?!”_ she snapped, whirling around to glare at him, showing him that she had been humiliated enough. “What more can you say to make me feel worse about myself?! You’ve already brought up how I’m a horrible person! You’ve made it clear that I’m a slut and undeserving of anyone to love me! Not to mention you’re practically calling me stupid for _trying_ to help people! How about you hit me where it _really_ hurts next and say how those orcs killing our baby was my fault, too? That’ll do it!”_ _

__Thranduil set his goblet down again on the table before stalking towards her, seeing her shoulders stiffen up as she backed away from him until she hit the wall. He raised his arms, bracing them on either side of her, trapping her in place as he looked into her teary eyes. Her face was red from holding back her sobs as she physically trembled under his stare. This wasn’t how he wanted this conversation to go. He was trying to mend things but at the mention of the dwarves—how she still intended to help them—he couldn’t hold back. If she was a cruel temptress then he was a ruthless tyrant, stinging her with guilt like a whip._ _

__He may as well have struck again like he did after learning she had slept with Thorin. In reflection she had admitted to it instead of hiding it and he had been so blinded by her betrayal he refused to stop and think about what he had done to drive her into another man’s bed. But it had been too late then, because Ayla had ran away after that and for that he was to blame._ _

__“I will _never_ blame you for the loss of our child.” he said softly, bringing his head down to touch his forehead to hers. A soft sob escaped passed her lips and she covered her mouth with her hand, feeling herself fall apart in front of him. Thranduil raised his head and wrapped her in his arms again. He hated to see her like this, to be the one to make her cry but she was like him; needing to be told the truth up front with nothing censored.“Your compassion and kindness is admirable, but it is also your greatest weakness. It is one of the reasons why I love you.” _ _

__He felt the trembling of her shoulders lessen and then finally calm down, and they stayed like that for a few long minutes. He rubbed her back in soothing circles and pressed his lips to her temple. Regardless of their past hurt, Thranduil held onto the hope that this time she will stay. He wanted them to go back to those happier days when they were so very much in love._ _

__“I’m sorry,” he heard her whisper. She raised her head to look up at him. “Do you forgive me? Please say you do. Having you hate me hurts more than any—” he cut her off with a searing kiss. When he pulled back enough to look into her eyes, he saw her glassy brown eyes searching his._ _

___“Nin mel,”_ he said, stroking her cheek with the back of his knuckles. She was not the one in need to apologize. Thranduil had always known that he was the one that had started this spiraling path for them both, because he was the one who broke his promise first. “May the stars tonight burn bright with jealousy.” He kissed her again, this time slowly, taking his time as he moved his lips against hers, showing her that he forgave her and more. Hands searched over their clothed bodies, the heated tension from earlier now replaced with rising desire as they made up the only way they knew how. With their clothes flying off in record time, Thranduil picked Ayla up and carried her to the bed. With the covers of the silky sheets over them, they laid in each other’s arms, both knowing that they had all the time in the world._ _

__She pressed her face into the crook of his neck and exhaled a deep breath as the warmth continued to spread between them. His heart, that strong, steady, eternal organ, pounded with a familiarity that made her ache for all the time they'd spent apart. There was no way it had only been sixty years. It felt closer to a thousand. Yet, still, she wondered idly if this had all happened too fast. Her mind and heart had barely had the time to prepare, and seemed to be struggling to accept that what was happening around her was truly real. For all the perfection of his body against hers, there were still words between them that needed to come. Ayla wasn't sure where to start, but they both knew it was in his eyes and hers, in the restraint and caution of their bodies._ _

__Her head rolled back and she closed her eyes while her mouth gaped open in ecstasy, feeling him fill her completely, his thrusts were controlled and tight. She moaned softly, her legs hugging his sides and her hands running over every part of him that she could reach. She wanted more of him, she wanted all of him and she wanted to give all of herself to him._ _

__“Thranduil, don’t hold back.” she said, looking up into his eyes._ _

__His eyes flashed with smoldering desire. He locked his fingers with hers, pinning her hands to the bed by her head, holding them there, and thrust deep and hard, closing his eyes at the sensation, hearing her gasp and smiling in satisfaction at the sound. _I want to hear you gasp when I do. Once. Twice. And then again.__ _

___So good._ He opened his eyes to find her watching him. He slowly lowered his head to kiss her. He continued the movement, faster and deeper, and she matched her pace to his. He released her arms, moving his hands to either side of her, bracing himself higher so he could thrust deeper. She cried out when he did and he smiled again, watching her now, still moving, but watching every expression on her face. They were both perspiring now. _ _

__“Don’t stop.” she pleaded. “Oh, please don’t stop.” Something was building inside her, an impossibly perfect something. She tossed her head back, biting at her lip._ _

__Just the sight of her. “Ayla.” he moaned. He was so close._ _

__“So close.” she gasped out echoing his thoughts. “Don’t stop.” she said again. She gripped his forearms feeling the muscle flex as he moved, using it to brace herself so she could meet his every thrust. They were moving faster, harder now and she was positively writhing beneath him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. He slipped his hand between them and with just the slightest pressure, just a few strokes of his thumb against her clitoris and she cried out clutching at his arms, clenching around him and arching off the bed and then he was coming too, a release, that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside and he couldn’t help the hoarse cry of her name as he collapsed on top of her. Her arms went immediately around him._ _

__After a moment he pushed himself up to look at her. She was flushed and her mouth was swollen from his kisses. Perspiration matted her dark hair to her face and she eyes were half-lidded. He slowly pulled out of her and rolled off to the side with a satisfied groan before pulling Ayla to him, holding her in his arms._ _

__She breathed in his scent, missing the smell of earth and spice. "I was afraid that things might be too different. That maybe you wouldn’t want me back." She nuzzled in deeper and ran her fingers along the plains of his smooth chest. She had tried not to nurse too many fantasies of taking him back. Their relationship was constantly up and down and she always felt insecure that she wasn’t good enough for him._ _

__“Don’t ever think that.” he said, his brows furrowing until the little crease at the bridge of his nose formed. Ayla melted inwardly a little bit as she realized how desperately she missed that. And those lips remained as exquisite as ever._ _

__"Then I'll stop thinking that." she answered with a gentle smile._ _

__He squeezed her tightly, crushing her against his chest. "I can feel you in my arms but I can still barely believe you're really here." he breathed._ _

__A firm palm found her jaw, urging her face up to his, her lips immediately captured in a hard kiss. She sighed deeply, a wave of relief flooding through her chest and down to her toes. How she had missed his kisses. Her whole body began to awaken again as his mouth took hers over, the warmth of his skin breathing life back into her cold-numbed limbs. She squirmed in closer, tilting her head and welcoming his tongue, returning his kiss with a slow deliberation. God, he felt so good, tasted so good, so much like she remembered. So warm and soft and strong, his touch both desperate and tender._ _

__His pillowy lips pulled and teased at hers, suckling and pressing, his breath coming hot through his nose as the intensity grew and smoldered. His kisses pulled her in, an undertow removing the ground from beneath their bodies, tossing her into a roiling, tumultuous sea of memory and desire. She tried to calm her body, not get so caught up that they forgot to say the things they needed to, but she wasn't sure how much of that there was. The situation had always been impossible for both of them since they were equally stubborn. What more could be said or done now but to move forward, to reclaim what time was left?_ _

___"Nin mel,"_ he breathed, looking deeply into her eyes. She cupped his cheek, feeling an intense ache grow within her, a need to consume and be consumed. Her body was moving against his even as she tried to order it to be still. The scorching heat of his skin, the call of her body to join with his, it would not be silenced. Sixty years. There was so much time to make up for. What was the point of waiting any longer when she'd already been waiting so very long? "Please, don't ever just disappear like that again."_ _

__She shook her head as his mouth found her neck, skimming tauntingly up to her lips as his body pressed in deeper against hers. Her legs had gone numb due to the insistent throbbing within her thighs, a torturous absence of him inside her that overpowered all other sensation. An aching hunger that radiated outward, demanding to be sated._ _

__"Home…I’m home…" she whispered as she pressed the full length of herself against him, letting her eyes roll closed. Yes, that's what this was. That's what he was. No word could describe it more perfectly._ _

__She pushed him fully onto his back and she climbed on top of him, straddling his hips as she obeyed the siren call of her body without question or hesitation. Even if she crashed upon the rocks and never recovered, she couldn't have denied the song that was luring her in. Her thighs were flooded with readiness, already halfway to the finish line before the solid mass of him ever made even the lightest contact. She found his mouth again as his hands found the curve of her hips and ground their sex together. Ayla reached down between them and grabbed his hard cock, guiding it to her entrance and completely swallowed him inside her. His tongue penetrated at the same moment that his manhood did, flaying her open with a searing peal of sensation that streaked straight through, skewering up her chest and forcing a cry from her throat. Even the raging heights of lovemaking they'd achieved years earlier had not prepared her for the instant intensity contained within her body at their rejoining. Her body knew, every cell in her singing and rejoicing: she was home._ _

__At some point the blankets were gone, having escaped the writhing mass of flesh that twisted and coiled its way toward the heavens. As soon as flesh was exposed it was claimed again, by a hand or a mouth or the wrapping of legs and the squirming of muscles, pushing closer, finding the furthest reaches within the other possible. She had not realized how hard she'd clawed in her desperation to get him closer until she saw a faint smear of red on his shoulder. On her throat his mouth made a tight seal and suckled, biting down her shoulder and devouring the sensitive flesh as his hips thrust hard into hers. He palmed the soft flesh of her breasts, squeezing until her nipples smarted with a thrilling sting. Her hands found his buttocks and rode the waves of his thrusts, rocking a steady rhythm that devastated the aching center within her, her nerves quickly fulminating into buzzing shards of white._ _

__His body entangled within hers was a marvel; smooth expanses of fuzz-softened flesh that bowed over firm hills of muscle, a palpable urgency driving him to cover every part of her with every part of him. He was heavy and careful, abandoned and present. Thorough, corded arms kept her right up against him as his hands got reacquainted with her curves; while kiss reddened lips claimed her mouth and then scorched across her skin. It was everything she remembered, and so very much more._ _

__"Thranduil," she breathed, needing to hear it spoken aloud. For so long she hadn't even allowed herself even the indulgence of his name. But it had always been in her heart, forced into dormancy by time and the sting of loss. Now it spilled forth on its own, escaping its cage and rolling off her tongue as easily as a sigh._ _

__His smoky, velvety voice crooned agonized responses into her ear. Her name, beautiful words of love, whines, whimpers and moans, as his body wrenched control away from his mind and heaved him into a shuddering, keening climax. He bruised her thighs with a barely restrained hand and pulsed his hips hard against her as he finished, straining against the limits of her inner walls while cupping her head and holding her mouth in a deep kiss._ _

__She wasn't ready for it to be over, her body still blazing, still crying out with the desire for more. The drought of touch had become just another droning discomfort that she edged out of her consciousness on a day to day basis. But the truth had always been that if she couldn't have the man she really wanted, she had no real interest in having anyone. And even though she'd just feasted, she still felt starved._ _

__He collapsed beside her and she rolled into the cradle of his chest, breathing in the light scent of sweat and the musky spice that was his scent. She stayed wrapped around him, thighs securing his pelvis against hers, belly to belly, mouth to mouth. The pounding of her heart as it slowed was drowned out almost completely by his, and she contented herself to just continue to kiss him while they calmed, threading her fingers through his hair, tracing the dark arches of his brows, the little divot in the flesh below his bottom lip. Reacquainting herself to his face again, his skin, his scent, his touch._ _

__"Is this real?" she asked dazedly._ _

__He let out a soft laugh. "I hope so."_ _

__Somewhere in it all, she briefly slept and when she woke, the light outside the windows had changed, the direction of the shadows cast through the windows telling her that it was still night with just a few hours left until dawn. Thranduil breathed quietly beside her, his lids drooping while lightly picking through her hair and tracing the lines of her neck with his fingertips. Every few seconds he paused to place a kiss on her temple. She moaned as the mists of sleep dissolved, revealing bodies still entwined, his half erect cock still nestled in the slick folds of her sex. She couldn't help but resume rubbing and writhing against him, moving her hips to slide her awakening slit along the growing length of him. The warm cover of his roving hands only spurred her on, sliding over her breasts, down her ribs to her navel and then around her hips to grasp firm handfuls of buttocks. There was no stopping, no being still. Thranduil was here, the Elvenking still loved her, her agony was over and they were going to be together._ _

__"My beloved," he whispered as he ran the pad of his thumb over the firm point of a nipple. Almost deliriously, he rotated his hips, finding a slow, languorous entry into her body. His eyes were dark and glazed; his saturated voice the musical manifestation of desire. This time they would go slow, she decided. She would draw it out and savor every second. She slid a hand over the sharp angle of his jaw, and held his face before hers, gazing deep into his grey eyes as they slowly bucked and rocked together. He breathed out, and she breathed him in, inhaling warmth and musk and the scent of sex. His broad shoulders flexed as he braced himself on one arm and dragged slow flames of pleasure out of the depths of her, sending them dancing across her skin. They found an unhurried rhythm, and she closed her eyes for a moment to focus on the rapturous sensation of his thickness gliding, pushing its way deeper, and landing upon tender, neglected places that confused twinges of pain for sparks of pleasure._ _

__She took his lips again, the tip of his tongue gently breaching the boundaries of her mouth and running hot and soft along her lips. He struck electric jolts of need down into the depths of her stomach with every flick, every deep drink of her mouth. A throbbing ache welled up around her heart, and she found herself gasping for breath as she mourned for all their lost time, mourned for all those cold, empty nights that could have been warm and full of the love that she didn't get to give._ _

__She handed herself completely over to this god of pleasure, losing her mind in the tenderness of his touch, in the building sighs and groans, the sweet, escalating turmoil of their gyrating bodies. She clutched him close with every ounce of her strength and slowly the storm within her calmed, as her thoughts turned from the past to the present and slowly leaning towards the future as doors of possibilities opened up for them._ _

__He came hard, pinning her against the bed as the slow burn of their lovemaking rose to an unexpected inferno, driving her deeper and deeper into the down mattress and rattling the bed frame against the wall. She broke open and spilled out a chorus of wild, wanton cries, welcoming the driving force of his hips, of his cock, of his mouth as she continued to shatter beneath him, her orgasm cascading through her bones with a delicious violence, plastering her flat and helpless at his body's complete domination of her. She groaned delirious yeses as he slammed into her, each thrust shaking ecstatic shrieks of pleasure from that aching center of nerves, pushing her up and over the precipice of control, satisfying a need sixty years in the making._ _

__Afterward she lay trembling and panting, the muscles of her legs quivering like jelly, her skin drenched in a salty layer of sweat that matted her hair to her face. She turned to him and smiled. All tension had been pried loose from her muscles, all doubt that things might not be the same as they once had been, completely destroyed. She beamed warmly at the pink flush in his cheeks and the stormy wildness of his eyes, and she thanked the universe for bringing her back to him. But in the back of her mind there was the ever nagging voice, reminding her that her promise had not yet been completed. But how can she help Thorin and his dwarves when she had made yet another promise to her love that she would never leave him again?_ _

__xxxxx_ _

__(Past)_ _

__It was rare to get snow in Seattle during the winter, since it usually just rained. But when it snowed, it SNOWED; which made driving in Seattle incredibly risky since the snow had frozen overnight, creating sheets of ice. Salt would be sprinkled on the sidewalks but the road itself—that was at the driver’s own risk. Luckily for Ayla, owning a car when you live in Seattle is virtually pointless when everything was either walking distance or a bus ride away. And that was the case for her that morning. Walking to work was convenient when she only lived on Capital Hill and her workplace was just two hills down and four streets over._ _

__As per usual, she stopped in the coffee shop on the corner, black coffee, extra hot, one pack of sugar mixed in. From there, she would cross the street on First Hill. It was early, and it was still fairly dark outside, looking no different than night time. The streets were practically empty say for early birds like her and the homeless people curled up in their dirty sleeping bags on stoops. She took a cautious sip of coffee as she crossed the street when the loud blare of a truck horn sounded coming her way. Looking up, her eyes widened as the truck wheels had no traction on the icy hill and the idiot driver didn’t have his headlights turned on._ _

__“Ayla!” she heard someone scream._ _

__The last Ayla saw was white._ _


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayla begins to settle back into the Woodland Realm until Tauriel brings her news of Kili's health and Ayla risks angering her love to save Kili and help the dwarves. The extent of Thorin's madness takes a dangerous turn. And a darkness swooping down upon them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little rushed

They had escaped. Bilbo must have somehow gone unnoticed by the guards and freed them. Ayla couldn’t have felt more relieved by the news and it showed on her face, in her eyes, how it lightened her mood. Thranduil, however, was feeling the opposite. He knew Ayla wanted the dwarves freed but she obviously couldn’t have been the one to free them because she had been at his side (or more accurately in his bed) when it had happened. The only mystery was who had actually done it.

At that very moment, his son, Legolas, was in pursuit of the dwarves with Tauriel and a handful of the guard. He had confidence that his son would not fail. As he returned to his chambers, he found Ayla at his writing desk, turning the pages of one of the books he had previously read. She was sitting sideways in his chair, wearing only a silk robe of a dark red with gold trimming. The V of the robe exposed the skin between her breasts. Her legs were crossed at the knees, her naked thigh on display just for him. Her hair was damp from her bath and gathered over one shoulder, giving him an eyeful of her neck and the kiss marks he had left there. Her pose was seductive, as if purposely luring him back into the world of euphoria that was her body.

He walked over to her, catching her eye as she raised her head up and smiled warmly at him. Her lips were still red and swollen from his excessive attention just hours ago. Once he was in front of her he reached down and took the book from her and set it back on his writing table as he looked down at her, his eyes roving over her body appreciatively. He scooped her up in his arms and took her place in his chair while holding her on his lap. Despite the earlier upset with the dwarves escaping his dungeon, this temptress wiped away all thoughts of them the second her lips were on his.

He touched the side of her neck and slid down its length, tracing his palm down her chest, her soft skin warm under his touch. He groped a breast, giving it a teasing squeeze and earning a soft gasp from her against his lips. Her hands massaged the back of his neck and shoulders, kneading the knots in his muscles loose, getting a moan of approval from him. Thranduil slid his hand down her waist and down her naked thigh, stopping at her knee and then moving slowly up her inner thigh with the back of his knuckles. He grazed over the mound of her sex, feeling the heat as his fingers slide over the silky folds. The skin was smooth and much to his pleasure, hairless. He recalled Ayla once telling him how in her world it was preferred for women to have little to no hair between their legs. A fashion statement he greatly appreciated.

Ayla moved to straddle his lap while keeping her face close to his. Their lips brushed together softly, parting and bumping, breathing each other's air. His hands slipped the robe off her shoulders and he cupped her breasts, fully possessing the fleshy mounds with his broad palms, rolling his fingers over her nipples until her breath hitched in her throat, then scorching up the wall of her chest to her neck, hungrily pulling her mouth into his while she worked patiently at the ties of his breeches. After a deep, searing kiss he pulled his lips away and dragged them lightly down the length of her neck starting under her ear, his breath coming hot on her skin, the tip of his tongue tracing its way to her collar bone before nipping over her shoulders. She let out a breathy moan as his mouth worked on her, sending shivers rippling down her skin, hardening her nipples into little points as that bud of nerves between her legs throbbed insistently with the need to be touched. To be teased. To be brought to fulfillment.

Finally she freed the thick rod of his cock from his breeches that protruded tantalizingly from the flaps. In a swift move she slid off his lap and he was plunged fully into her mouth, the broad cockhead hitting the back of her throat as she lowered her body between his legs. His gasp sounded almost like a sob, and strong fingers immediately wound in her damp hair as she raked up his thighs with her nails. She looked up at him and swirled her tongue around the ridge of his cockhead, suckling and slurping, relaxing her throat in stages so she could manage as much of his length as possible.

Hooded eyes watched her, panting jagged breaths through open lips, and she took him in again and again, stopping when he was breaching the limits of her throat so she could breathe in the salty, musky scent nestled within the pale curls at the base. God, it smelled like pure man, lusty and carnal and heavy with the promise of sex. It only made her hungrier for him, made her more determined to feel him buck beneath her as she teased his cock to the heights of pleasure. His hips began to gyrate in time with the plunging of her head, his fingers tightening in her hair until the tension bit at her scalp. Somehow the little tinges of pain traveled directly to that aching between her legs, stoking the fire that burned there and called out to be extinguished by his crafty ministrations.

His enraptured, blissful face was a thing of beauty, enhanced to unnatural extremes by the increasing moans of desperation escaping his lips as his head rolled against the back of the chair. She wanted to get onto the desk and have him take her hard and fast, but there was something irresistible about seeing him occupying his spot behind his desk, ruling the room like a King on his throne, fully dressed with his crown upon his head while she was on her knees servicing him. It satisfied that little piece of her that wanted to have this proud King at her mercy, begging her for more. And the sight of him there made her moan as she devoured him, pressing her tongue into every groove, sliding along every vein, pushing flat and wide along the breadth of him while she sucked, simultaneously working her hand along the base of his cock until finally her King surrendered. His seed spilling into her mouth as she kept her lips around the head while her hand moved up and down, milking him for every drop until he was completely spent.

She swallowed his salty milk, not wasting a single drop as she pulled back and looked up at him as she licked her lips. His face was flushed pink, his lips parted as he caught his breath, his chest heaving up and down. His eyes were hooded as he looked down at her, the grey of his eyes darkened with lust. Ayla couldn’t help herself as she gave him a saucy smile as she slowly stroked the shaft with just the tip of her middle finger. She knew well enough that things were only getting started between them, his semi-hard cock rising to full attention under her teasing fingers.

“You wicked woman.” he said almost breathlessly, releasing her hair to stroke the side of her face with the back of his knuckles.

“Would you rather have me be a pious woman? Deliver sermons at your door instead of a service between your legs?” she said, seeing from the corner of her eye his cock twitching. She smirked as she placed both her hands on his thighs and leaned forward, flicking the tip of her tongue under the sensitive part of the head. She watched him, his eyes becoming a storm of lust and desire at her teasing. “Is that what you want, My Lord? A woman of virtue? Someone you are forbidden to have?”

Ayla pushed up slowly, purposely sliding up against the tip of Thranduil’s hard cock. She slowly moved back to straddling his lap, continuing her teasing as she pushed her wet cunt against his length. Thranduil let out a strained groan, wanting desperately to just end the foreplay and spearhead straight into her slick mound; but he refrained knowing that the reward will be all the more sweeter in his patience. He placed his hands on her hips, massaging the flesh over the thin fabric of her robe. He could feel her breath coming out with strained control against his face, their noses barely touching as they looked into each other’s eyes.

She was so warm against him.

The very scent of her arousal mixed with the floral perfume from the bath oils made him salivate. 

“Well? Is that what you want?” she asked in a breathy voice.

“No,” he said, “I want the wicked woman who drives me mad.”

Hooking his hands beneath her thighs Thranduil stood up swiftly and deposited Ayla onto his writing desk. Like a savage he plunged himself into her and with great satisfaction heard her cry out in pleasure and watched her eyes go wide. Her hands desperately clung to his shoulders as he gyrated against her, plunging deep and rough, feeling no need to hold back. He brought his mouth to her neck, biting harshly on the sensitive skin and leaving new marks over the old. Ayla’s legs wrapped around his hips, locking at the ankles to pull him closer.

“More.” she moaned, “Don’t hold back.”

Thranduil released a near feral growl at her command, pushing her down on her back, knocking over one of the ink pots and sending a stack of papers flying in a chaotic mess. Ayla relished in her lover’s unhinged desires, looking up to see the proud Elvenking thrusting into her like a wild beast in heat. His eyes were dark and glazed, lost in the moment and his lips parted enough to show his teeth clenched. Ayla could barely focus on every detail about him, feeling her climax building up as he continued to hit that one spot that only he could reach. She could feel her back arching in anticipation and knew that Thranduil was reaching him zenith, his grip on her hips clamping down.

And then it came: their release.

The two of them letting out their cry of ecstasy. Her inner walls quivering and clenching around his thrumming cock. They stared at each other, both catching their breaths and riding out the euphoric high of their love making. Thranduil’s eyes roved over her, seeing her sprawled out on his desk, the front of her robe open and exposing her naked body like she had been a gift he had just unwrapped. Her breasts were rising and falling with each breath she took, her dusky nipples at full attention. His trailed over the length of her torso, down the smooth plains of her stomach to where they were still joined. The sight of himself still inside her was erotic and her watching him appreciate her body was erotic. She was the embodiment of erotica.

They took their time to recover, even going again for a third round by moving to the bed and savoring each other by going slow and gentle. Past midday they were clean and dressed and had eaten their lunch together in their favorite alcove that had the open air. The crisp autumn air seemed to make Ayla’s spiced cider taste sweeter on her tongue.

“Lord Elrond had written to me over the years while you were raising Estel.” Thranduil said, knowing to use Aragorn’s second name to continue to keep his true identity safe even within his own realm.

Ayla looked at him with surprise, “He did? I had no idea. What did he write?”

“Nothing of ill repute, I promise.” Thranduil said, seeing her relax back into her chair. “He mostly wrote about how willful your son can be, stating that the boy could only have gotten it from watching his mother doing much the same and mirroring it almost perfectly.” He smirked at the sight of Ayla’s cheeks flushing.

With an undignified huff Ayla crossed her arms and pouted. “Of all the things to remark about _that’s_ what he writes?”

Thranduil let out an amused chuckle. “Lord Elrond had written many good things about your mothering skills. I admit that reading about how you both were fairing had brought me much comfort.”

Ayla’s pout transformed into a smile as she sat up straighter in her seat. “Did he write about how Estel seemed to disappear at every chance he got?”

“No, I believe he left out that detail.” he replied with an indulgent smile, urging her to continue.

“Well then let me tell you; the minute Estel learned how to walk it was nothing but endless chasing. And that kid knew an opportunity to run for it when it presented itself. You couldn’t turn your back on him for a second before he was out of sight. He even disappeared when Lord Elrond was watching him for me. Said he found Estel on the other side of the pavilion trying to climb out of a window that had a hundred foot drop. This one time when Estel was three years old, Lady Galadriel had come to visit and we were walking together up a flight of stairs when suddenly she catches Estel after he had fallen out from a veranda over our heads. I nearly had a heart attack!”

Thranduil laughed, finding the story of a toddler falling from above hard to believe but it was clear that Ayla was telling the truth.

“Estel also had an odd habit of falling asleep in the most bizarre places. I once found him sleeping in the rafters of the banquet hall. Then there was this one time he fell into a fox hole and got stuck and thought it was good idea to take a nap.”

“Odd indeed; but it takes a great talent to sleep anywhere.”

Ayla let out a laugh, picking up her glass of cider and took another sip of it. Thranduil smiled, reaching out and taking her hand in his, holding it lovingly. Ayla looked at him, smiling back as she gave his fingers a light squeeze.

xxxxx

Later that afternoon Ayla was approached by Tauriel while she was sitting out in the garden, enjoying the freedom Thranduil was now bestowing upon her. Ayla took notice of the troubled look on the elf’s face.

“You look upset, what’s wrong?” Ayla asked.

“The orcs have gone after the dwarves and the one we captured said that one of the dwarves had been hit by a poisonous arrow.” Tauriel said, “I think he was talking about Kili. If that’s true then he’ll die Please, he’ll need you to heal him.”

Ayla felt the blood drain from her face. Not her sweet little Kili. “I understand.” she said, knowing her next decision was going to put her back in hot water with a certain King but she couldn’t ignore the risk. 

xxxxx

Legolas marched towards the gates, giving the order to close them and not permit anyone to leave or enter until further notice; but he took pause when it was revealed that Tauriel had gone out earlier, and Ayla was with her. Clenching his jaw, he left through the gate to go after the two women. Disobeying his King’s orders…just like his mother.

That line of thought brought a smile to his lips.

xxxxx

“Kwenthrith, where is Ayla?” Thranduil asked. When he had returned after interrogating (then executing) the orc, Ayla was not in their chambers where he had left her. He had searched the library, expecting to find her there but only came across Kwenthrith, writing in one of her newest addition of her medical journals. The elf maiden stood from where she had been sitting.

“Forgive me, My Lord.” she said, keeping her eyes cast down. “But I have not seen Lady Ayla since last eve. She was to meet me an hour ago but I had thought she was still with you.”

“My Lord Thranduil,” said a guard as he bowed in respect to the Elvenking. “Tauriel has left the Realm and your son has gone after her. What’s more is that Lady Ayla was seen with Tauriel. Shall I send a team out to retrieve them?”

A surge of anger began to boil up deep within Thranduil’s chest. “No. Send a messenger to tell Legolas and Ayla to return. Nothing more.”

“And what of Tauriel?”

“She is banished.”

xxxxx

Ayla covered her mouth and nose with her hand as she carefully walked over the blood soaked rocks, animal parts and bones were scattered around from when the orcs had come through. The smell of putrefying blood was slightly overwhelming. She followed Tauriel towards the rock edge, the river below leading out of the forest towards Lake-town. Ayla was rather grateful to be wearing sensible enough clothes and boots as she followed the nimble elf. Tauriel suddenly whipped around, her bow and arrow at the ready to fire. Ayla turned around, seeing Legolas with his bow and arrow at the ready. They both lowered their weapons.

“Tauriel, you cannot hunt thirty orcs on your own.” Legolas said as he approached.

“But I’m not on my own.” Tauriel said, smirking back at him.

Legolas looked at Ayla and then at Tauriel. “Lady Ayla is not a warrior.”

Ayla sighed heavily, “Good grief, you’re dense. You get that from your father.” she braced her hands on her hips as she gave a pointed look at the prince. He seemed to understand as a slight smile appeared on his face. 

“You knew I would come.” he said before his smile faded away. “The King is angry, Tauriel. For six hundred years my father has protected you, favored you. You defied his orders. You betray his trust. And you have put my mother’s life in danger.” he said before speaking in elvish. _“Come back with me…he will forgive you.”_

_“I cannot go with you. If I go back, I will not forgive myself.”_ Tauriel replied before turning away. “The King has never let orc filth roam our lands. Yet he would let this orc pack cross our borders and kill our prisoners.”

“It is not our fight.” Legolas argued.

Tauriel turned back to face him. “It is our fight. It will not end here. With every victory this evil will grow. If your father has his way, we will do nothing. We will hide within our walls, live our lives away from the light…and let darkness descend. Are we not part of the world? For once in my life, I am doing what I think is right.”

_“Naneth,_ you must convince her otherwise.” Legolas said to Ayla, looking at her pleadingly with his eyes.

“Tell me, _Mellon,_ when did we let evil become stronger than us?” Tauriel asked. Legolas let out a sigh as he thought about his choices, looking at both women. Ayla walked up to him, reaching up and holding his face in her hands gently.

“In the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take.” Ayla said, looking into his beautiful blue eyes that were almost like his father’s. She smiled warmly at him as he closed his eyes, defeated by their words.

As they journeyed towards Lake-town together, Legolas couldn’t help but ask Ayla if she and his father had made up. “Is everything all right between the two of you now?” 

“It was, but once he finds out I’m gone he might change his mind.” Ayla said.

“Forgive me, My Lady.” Tauriel said, her tone truly apologetic. “I did not mean to compromise your relationship with Lord Thranduil. Perhaps it is best that Lord Legolas takes you back home. I shouldn’t have asked you to come.”

“Its fine,” Ayla reassured, “It’s not as if I have never dealt with his temper before.” Though she truly wondered if she had burned her last bridge. She hoped not and prayed to whatever deity that was listening to let Thranduil be merciful at the very least.

xxxxx

By nightfall they reached the edge of Lake-town, but unfortunately they were not the only late night arrivals. They could see the shadows of orcs creeping through the docks and over the rooftops. Ayla nearly froze in fear when she caught a glimpse of their painted markings, remembering them as the same markings on the orcs that had kidnapped her years ago. No, she wasn’t going to be afraid this time. Kili needed her.

“Stay here,” Legolas said to Ayla but paused at the glare she gave him and he cleared his throat nervously. “Then stay close.”

Ayla nodded and followed the elves as quickly and quietly as she possibly could (she had no ninja skills). The night was cold and wet; the water-logged planks of the walkways were weak and slippery underfoot and more than once Ayla lost her footing but Tauriel would catch and steady her. Tauriel brought up the rear to keep Ayla’s back safe as Legolas carefully navigated them, following the orcs, knowing they were after Thorin and his company. Screams from above were heard, screams Ayla recognized identifying agony and pain. Was it Kili? Her stomach dropped at the thought of her youngest godson dying. Other screams followed the first. Screams of fear. Screams of children! There were even sounds of things breaking and the screeching of orcs.

“Go!” Ayla said urgently. Legolas took to the rooftop while Tauriel took Ayla’s hand and led the way up a flight of rickety wet stairs. An orc jumped down in front of them and Tauriel easily stabbed it in the chest with her dagger before entering the house and swiftly dispatching two more with little effort. From above, Legolas jumped down from the hole in the roof and joined in the fray. The two elves moved in perfect synch with each other as they killed the orcs one and two at a time while the dwarves fought back the orcs with whatever was within reach of them. 

Ayla saw in the middle of the room a table where three children had huddled under, and seeing an orc heading towards them she ran forward and pushed him with her entire weight out the window. The sound of a gargling voice from outside rallied the rest away. Ayla whirled around and went to the table, crouching low to see three children hiding beneath it, two girls and a boy, their eyes and faces showing just how frightened they were.

“It’s all right now, you can come out.” Ayla said gently, reaching out a hand to them. The youngest girl reached out her hand to take Ayla’s who pulled her out from underneath the table with her two older siblings following suit. Ayla looked them each over for any injury.

“You killed them all,” said a boy, still stunned by the attack as he looked to Legolas.

“There are others.” Legolas said, not looking at the boy as he headed towards the door. “Tauriel. Come.”

“My Lady!” said Oin, surprised and relieved to see Ayla. “Kili! He’s dying! Please help him!”

Ayla looked to see her godson lying prone on the floor, his face pale and clammy with sweat. She quickly flipped the table back onto its legs. “Bring him up here.” she said, reaching down and holding Kili’s legs while Oin and Fili carried his upper half. Kili let out a wail of pain as he was lifted onto the table. Ayla ripped the pant leg over the wound and instantly knew that he had been poisoned and that there was little she could do. She had no medicine and none of her usual tools.

“Tauriel.” Legolas commanded before he left to go after the orcs. Tauriel hesitated before striding towards the door before pausing again when she heard Kili’s groans of pain. She turned away, seeing Legolas already ahead of her, hunting the orcs and killing the stragglers swiftly. She stepped out the door but stopped again when Bofur came running up the steps with a handful of weeds that she immediately recognized and her eyes widened with hope.

“Athelas.” she breathed, taking the weeds from Bofur.

“What are you doing?” Bofur asked, confused.

She looked down at him and smiled. “I’m going to save him.” Tauriel returned inside, showing Ayla the athelas. Ayla gasped and let out a breath of relief as she smiled at the elf.

“Bring me a bowl of water and oil.” Ayla said to the children. The boy and two girls searched around their ruined home while Ayla and Tauriel worked quickly in preparing the medicine. With the bowl, water and oil brought to them Ayla mixed the shredded athelas leaves in the oil and water, crushing them with her bare hands, squeezing the juice from the leaves and continuing to mix them until she was satisfied that they were wilted and saturated. 

“Hold him down.” Ayla said, and Fili, Oin and Bofur each pushed down a limb on Kili. The boy and two girls and Tauriel also held him down as Ayla touched Kili’s wound, sticking a finger inside. Kili screamed as if he were possessed, writhing in pain as Ayla prodded and felt the sharp broken end of the arrow was still inside him. She pulled her finger out and looked at the boy. “Do you have anything like a plier? Something narrow enough for me to get the arrow out of his leg.”

The boy nodded and ran out of the room, returning moments later with the very tool Ayla needed. Ayla quickly rinsed the pliers in water and then stuck the tip into the burning fire in the hearth to sterilize it, taking one of the fire pokers by the hearth and setting the head into the flames, knowing she will need to cauterize the wound once she got the arrowhead out. Returning to the table with the sterilized pliers she paused to look at everyone, seeing them all ready to hold Kili down.

“Keep him steady.” she said, placing one hand on Kili’s thigh above his wound and then pushed the bill of the pliers into the wound. Kili howled in pain again and everyone worked together to keep him flat on the table as Ayla dug the tool in his leg. With a steady and firm hand Ayla eased the arrowhead out of Kili’s wound. “Quickly! Bring me the fire poker!” 

Oin hurried to the hearth and grabbed the shaft of the fire poker, carrying it back to the table and holding it out to Ayla. Taking them from Oin, Ayla carefully turned the red hot tip down over Kili’s wound and like she had down many times in the past, stuck the tip into the wound. The sound of sizzling blood and the smell of burning flesh was instant, followed by another howl of pain from Kili. It was only for a few seconds but the sound of Kili’s agony felt like hours before Ayla pulled the hot poker out and dropped it to the floor behind her before grabbing a handful of the athelas mixture and applied it to the wound.

Tauriel’s hand laid firmly upon Ayla’s as she began to chant the spell of healing. A soft glow coming forth over the wound until Kili’s cries slowly lessened until he lay on the table, still as the dead but still breathing with the living. Ayla was brought a needle and a spool of thread by the oldest girl, of which she went to work on suturing the wound after she had cleaned away the blood and dirt from the area. While she sewed the wound Tauriel stood close to her, staring down at Kili who was whispering weakling in his state. Ayla only caught a few lines but she recognized that Kili, in his slight delirium, was confessing his love to the elf. And from what she saw from the corner of her eye was that Tauriel seemed hesitant but she didn’t leave or pull away, and it made Ayla think of Thorin and his confessions, and then of Thranduil, making her heart ache with guilt. Finished with suturing Kili’s wound, Ayla wrapped his leg up with a torn cloth (wishing it were clean and sterile but beggars can’t be choosers in desperate times). 

Suddenly they heard the bell ringing, alerting the citizens of Lake-town to the approaching danger. They heard the distant cries of people, yelling of the dragon approaching.

“We need to leave.” Ayla said, quickly turning to the children. “Come on! There’s no time to pack. Put on your warmest clothes and let’s go!” She then turned to Kili, helping him sit up. “We have to leave.”

“Come on, brother!” Fili said, helping Kili stand, forcing the young dwarf into alertness.

“Put on your coats, we have to get away as fast as we can.” Ayla said, helping the youngest into her jacket. “What is your name, sweetie?”

“Tilda.” the youngest said, looking at Ayla with large eyes full of questions and curiosity. “Sigrid is my sister and Bain is my brother.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, you may call me Ayla.” she said with a smile, trying to reassure the girl that everything was going to be all right, even though they were all in serious danger.

“We’re not leaving. Not without our father.” said Bain, trying to be brave even though his voice had cracked with panic.

“If you stay here, you sisters will die.” Tauriel said, turning to look at the boy. “Is that what your father would want?”

With the children dressed as warmly as possible Bofur led the way down to the boat below the house. Ayla made sure the children got on and then the dwarves before turning to Tauriel. “Get them to safety.” she instructed.

“My Lady?” Tauriel grabbed Ayla’s arm. “You can’t stay behind.”

“Their father has yet to return.” Ayla said, “He must be held up somewhere in this town.”

“I cannot let you risk your life. I will never forgive myself if you were to get killed.” Tauriel said, “Please, I’m begging you. Don’t take that risk. For once think of yourself!” Tauriel stepped closer to Ayla and whispered; _“Do not let our King return to despair.”_

Ayla conceded, unable to refuse as she looked at the boat with the children and the dwarves. She worried if the boat will be able to keep them all afloat. “Let’s get out of here quickly.”

It was risky in the small boat with so many aboard. The dragon flew over the town as the people desperately tried to evacuate. Smaug breathed down his fire upon the town, the angry spew of flames incinerating everything in its path. All around them the town burned and the poor people screamed and ran in fright. 

“Da!” Bain gasped.

“Da!” the Sigrid screamed as all eyes turned upward at the bell tower where they saw Bard, shooting his arrows at Smaug.

“He hit it! He hit the mark, I saw it!” Kili said.

“No,” Ayla said sadly, knowing that Bard’s normal arrows couldn’t do anything.

“The arrows are not strong enough to pierce its hide.” Tauriel said, “I fear nothing will.”

“Only the black arrow from the old days can.” Ayla said, remembering Girian in Dale, firing his black arrows when Smaug attacked.

Ayla nearly had a heart attack when Bain jumped out of the boat and ran across the docks. Ayla and Tauriel held the girls back from following after their brother while Bofur and Fili worked quickly and carefully to row the boat out of danger, but they continued to look up at the dragon, its size massive and the fire it breathed burning the town. 

“Leave him! We cannot go back.” Tauriel said.

“Bain!” the youngest cried.

“Keep rowing!” Ayla instructed, holding little Tilda tightly against her chest though her mind went to Legolas and hoping he wasn’t in the town. Or at the very least managed to escape the burning carnage.

As their boat headed towards the open water of the lake Ayla looked back, seeing Smaug had landed on the destroyed town, slowly creeping forward toward the tower. She gasped sharply when Smaug took to the sky again, struggling to ascend to the sky, his chest and throat alight with fire before suddenly going out like a candle. His massive body then fell, crashing into the burning town and sinking to the bottom of the lake that was to be its grave.

The dragon was dead, but it felt like a hollow victory.

xxxxx

The dwarves were pushing their boat back into the lake, intent on heading across it to Erebor. Ayla didn’t try to stop them, knowing that whatever she had to say wouldn’t change their minds, especially when her part of their journey was over. 

“My Lady,” Fili said, looking up at her. “Thank you for everything. For saving my brother’s life.”

“I didn’t do it alone.” Ayla said, looking over her shoulder to Tauriel and paused when she saw Kili speaking to the elf. The look on Tauriel’s face was one of surprise and warmth, a look Ayla was familiar with. Smiling, she turned back to Fili, thinking it best to not pry too much at the moment since there were more important matters to address. She touched Fili’s cheek, rubbing away a charred smudge with her thumb. “Look out for your brother, Fili, and together look out for your uncle if he survived the dragon.”

Fili nodded, “I will. I promise, auntie.”

Ayla smiled down at him and bent forward to hug him tightly. Kili walked over to them and Ayla pulled him into their hug.

“Do you remember what I told you both when I left?” Ayla asked, pulling back to look at them both.

“To not just be good but to do good.” Kili said.

“That’s right,” Ayl said, “Stay safe.”

She followed them to the water’s edge and watched her two godsons, Oin and Bofur row away across the lake. Ayla then began to help bring in the injured onto the shores. She stopped to look around, seeing how devastated the people were. How is it that she manages to know two men in her life to simply let such destruction happen? Ayla jumped when she felt cold hands clawing up her leg and looking down she saw a pale man in all black clawing up her leg and screaming like a toddler throwing a tantrum. He reminded Ayla of a drowned rat. She tried to get him off of her until he was suddenly kicked away. Looking to her right was Legolas.

“Don’t touch her, filth!” he hissed, pulling Ayla away from the shore.

“Legolas…” Ayla said before slapping his arm, surprising the elf prince. “Where the _hell_ were you?!”

“I had gone after the orcs.” Legolas said, raising his arms up in defense.

“That’s not an excuse to suddenly drop in, kill a few orcs and then go running off into the night! I was worried!” Ayla yelled, slapping his arm again.

He placed his hands on her upper arms, mostly to hold them down from striking him again. Her slaps stung. “I’m sorry. Really. But I’m fine.” He could see that she wasn’t done with her scolding yet but it was obvious that she was distracted by the townspeople. “You can’t stay out here, please return home where you will be safe.”

“You know I can’t, not when these people need help.” Ayla said stubbornly.

“Please,” he said, lowering his voice. _“Naneth.”_

“No, I’m staying.”

He drew her into a tight hug. “Then stay safe.” he said into her ear before pulling back and looking her in the eye. _“Promise to return home to father, Naneth. You are the only balm to his soul.”_ Ayla smiled, touching his cheek. “I will stay at your side and keep you safe.”

“At least you’re easier to reason with than your father.” she said, earning a soft laugh from him. The drowned rat from earlier was harassing a woman handing out blankets to the people and had grabbed her, raising a hand to strike. Ayla was about to intervene when a man got to them first, stopping the rat and throwing him aside.

“Da!” the girls cried happily as they ran past Ayla towards him. Ayla gathered that he was their father they had been calling for. His children embraced their father tightly in relief. Ayla stepped closer, looking at the man’s face and wondering why he looked so familiar.

“It was Bard! He killed the dragon! I saw it with me own eyes!” said one of the townspeople, getting everyone’s attention as he approached Bard and his children. “He brought the beast down! Shot him dead with a black arrow!”

Black arrow. Could he be Girian’s descendant?

The people all crowded and cheered, thanking Bard for his heroics.

“All hail to the dragon slayer! All hail King Bard!” cried the drowned rat. The people all grew quiet as their gaze turned hateful and bitter at the man. “I have said it many times! This is a man of noble stock. A born leader!”

“Do not call me that.” Bard said, “I’m not the Master of this town. Where is he?! Where’s the Master?!” he shouted, looking around.

“Halfway down the Anduin,” said a woman, “With all our coin, I don’t doubt. You would know,” the woman continued, pointing at the rat. “You helped him empty out the treasury.”

“No. I tried to stop him!” the man said as the people quickly turned and he hid behind Bard. “I begged. I pleaded.” The people were not buying into his lies and grabbed him, screaming for rope to hang him from a tree. The man screamed, trying to wriggle away as he was being carried off to his death until Bard intervened, stopping the madness.

“Let him go! Let him go!” Bard shouted, quieting the mob. “Look around you! Have you not had your fill of death?! Winter is upon us. We must look to our own. To the sick and the helpless. Those who can stand, tend to the wounded. And those who have strength left follow me. We must salvage what we can.”

“What then?” another asked. “What’ll we do then?”

“We find shelter.” Bard said. Bard rushed his people to take what they could to prepare to leave. “Take only what you need. We have a long march ahead.” He walked around, helping his people prepare to leave. His steps leading him towards where Ayla, Legolas and Tauriel stood.

“Where will you go?” Legolas asked, looking at Bard.

“There is only one place.” Bard said, while the drowned rat followed him around like a lost puppy.

Ayla turned her head towards the mountain, knowing that Fili, Kili, Bofur and Oin should be arriving to the mountain within a few hours. 

“The mountain. You are a genius, Sire. We can take refuge inside the mountain.” the rat said, “It might smell a bit of dragon, but the women can clean that up. It’ll be safe and warm and dry and full of stores, bedding, clothing…the odd bit o’ gold.”

Bard turned sharply around at the rat. “What gold is in that mountain is cursed.” Bard said, “We will take only what was promised to us. Only what we need to rebuild our lives.”

“News of the death of Smaug will have spread through the lands.” Legolas said, stepping up to Bard. “Others will now look to the mountain…for its wealth and its position.”

Bard turned to look at Legolas carefully. “What is it that you know?”

Legolas glanced at Ayla and Bard’s eyes followed, having seen the woman helping his injured people. “Nothing for certain. It’s what I fear may come.” Legolas left Bard’s side and walked back to Ayla who turned to walk with him. Tauriel joined them, noticing the brisk steps her prince was taking.

“You saw something, didn’t you?” Ayla said.

“The orc I pursued out of Lake-town, I know who he is.” Legolas said, “Bolg, spawn of Azog the Defiler. A warg pack was waiting for him on the outskirts of Esgarith. They fled into the north. These orcs were different from the others. They bore a mark I have not seen for a long time. The mark of Gundabad.”

They stopped walking and a coldness spread through Ayla’s veins. The memory of the orc stabbing her in the stomach that horrific night, killing her baby and nearly killing her with it if not for Thranduil.

“Gundabad?” Tauriel said in shock.

“An orc stronghold in the far north of the Misty Mountains.” Legolas said, he looked back at Tauriel and Ayla. 

_“My Lord Legolas…”_ they turned to see an elven messenger on horseback approach them. _“I bring word from your Father. You and Lady Ayla are to return to him immediately.”_

_“Come, Tauriel.”_ Legolas said.

_“My Lord…Tauriel is banished.”_ said the messenger.

“Banished?” Legolas asked, feeling rage building up in his chest. He will not suffer insult from his own father for banishing Tauriel. “You may tell my Father that if there is no place for Tauriel, there is no place for me.” 

Tauriel stepped up to stand behind him. “Legolas…it is your King’s command.” she said softly.

Legolas turned to look at her. _“Yes, he is my King…but he does not command my heart.”_

Ayla smiled at his words, her heart warmed by such a corny line. “Legolas, go and investigate the north,” Ayla said, “When I was in Rivendell after Thorin and his company arrived I was in council with Lord Elrond, Gandalf, Saruman and Lady Galadriel. Gandalf had said something about an enemy returning and even had evidence of a Nazgul blade that shouldn’t even exist. Then there was something Gandalf said about seeing to a lead on the enemy before we entered the forest.”

“Then I will go.” Legolas said, looking at Tauriel. “Will you come with me?”

Tauriel looked to Ayla who nodded her head in approval before turning to follow Legolas. Ayla turned to the messenger who held out his hand to her to take. She reached up and took the offered hand and was easily pulled up onto the horse behind the messenger.

“You’re leaving us?” came Bard’s voice. Ayla turned her head to see Bard with his three children clustered close to him. “There are still injured people who need a healer now more than ever. You are the only one here who has the skill to help them. I’ve seen your work. Barely a day has passed and already nearly half the injured are back on their feet. You cannot abandon us now.”

“Bard, is it?” Ayla asked, getting a nod of confirmation from the man. “I’m sorry but I have to make sure that my friends are still alive.” Ayla said, before speaking to the elven messenger. _“Take me to Erebor first.”_

_“But My Lady, the King has commanded—”_

_“I know what the King has commanded; I am merely requesting a detour.”_

_“Of…of course, My Lady.”_

“I will meet you in the ruins of Dale.” she said to Bard before riding off.

xxxxx

By horseback, Ayla arrived just on the outskirts of Erebor. Seeing it so barren and lifeless pulled at her heart as she remembered once was the road from the gates to Dale were full of beautiful trees and flowers. She dismounted from the horse and looked up at the messenger.

_“Tell the King that I will be waiting for him here, and that he must bring aid. Food, water and medicine.”_ Ayla said, knowing this was only going to piss Thranduil off even more, but it was worth it if it will help the people of Lake-town and to help persuade all parties from going to war. After all, Legolas was right to say that others will come. This was not the first time she experienced disasters leading to war, and she had a sinking feeling that this was exactly the path that she was unfortunately sliding down on.

_“Yes, My Lady.”_ the messenger said, though he looked uneasy in leaving her there alone. Ayla smiled up at him reassuringly.

“I’ll be fine.” she said, “Oh, and do tell Kwenthrith to come. I’ll need her help.”

As soon as he rode away Ayla carefully made her way down the rocky slope, losing her footing a few times and sliding down the gravel, scraping her hands and ruining the threading of her clothes. It was of little consequence to her as she made it onto the old road that led her to the doors of Erebor. She saw the rubble that was once the front doors into the mountain, and she could just make out shadows in the entrance of the waning daylight where a new wall was being erected. No one seemed to take notice of her as she got closer until she was practically at the wall that she could easily climb over. She brought two fingers to her lips and blew, whistling loud enough to suspend all activity and get everyone’s attention. She nearly laughed when she saw their heads look over the wall.

“Lady Ayla?”

“It’s her! Lady Ayla is here!”

“You gonna let me in or are girls not allowed in your club house?” Ayla joked.

“Climb up here, lass!” Balin said, tossing down a rope. Ayla grinned as she hoisted herself up with the ropes, using the cracks and climbed up the six feet of wall. 

Reaching the top, she climbed over the wall with very little grace and sat back with an exhausted “Why are you barricading yourselves in? The dragon is dead.” Ayla said.

“Thorin ordered it.” Kili said, fidgeting nervously as he gave a quick glance to his uncle.

“That still doesn’t answer my question.” Ayla said, looking at Thorin who stared back at her. “You have your mountain, isn’t that enough?”

“No. The Arkenstone has yet to be found and I need to make sure that my legacy is safe and secure.” Thorin said.

Ayla looked around at everyone, seeing how they remained unusually quiet. But it was clear to Ayla what they were all thinking as she looked back at Thorin. “For the love of—have you lost your sense of humanity?” A silence fell over everyone as they all looked nervously between her and Thorin. “The people of Lake-town just lost _everything_ and you’re in here barricading yourselves in over a stupid rock?! From what I have heard you promised those people a share in the wealth! The least you can do is give them enough to rebuild their lives.”

“What other choice was there?!” Thorin yelled, “To barter off our heirlooms, our legacy in exchange for food and clothes!”

“You denying them their promised share makes you no better than when Thranduil turned your people away.” Ayla said pointedly, practically seeing Thorin’s hackles rise at being compared to the Elvenking. “But keep your wall if it makes you feel better about yourself. But how does the rest of your crew feel? Is your King being just for allowing his greed and paranoia to cloud his judgment?”

“You have no right to question me!” Thorin yelled.

“I have every right! And so do your people!” Ayla snapped back, rising to her tired feet. “There’s a reason why I was against this quest in the first place. I was afraid of what this place would do to you—has _already_ done to you. I didn’t want you to end up mad like your grandfather.”

“I am not him!” he screamed.

“Look in a mirror, you already are.” Ayla said.

Silence fell over them all. Ayla’s words echoing in Thorin’s ears, rattling him as he began to lose his composure. Looking around at all the eyes that stared back at him Thorin turned away and hurriedly left the scene but not before throwing the order to continue with the wall over his shoulder. Ayla huffed as she rubbed her temples. 

“Legacy my ass.” she tsked, placing her hands on her hips. “I’ll go after him.” She hopped down the piled rocks to go after Thorin when Balin stopped her.

“Lass, if you can, help him before it takes control of him.” he said, “This place…you were right to be afraid of what it will do. Please, help him see his error. Help him be cured of the sickness.”

“I will do my best, Balin. That’s all I can promise.” Ayla said. She turned away and again returned to the task of going after Thorin. It took her awhile to navigate the dizzying roads of Erebor, the memories of the past flooding back. She ducked her head through a doorway and finally found Thorin, standing inside a room where the gems were stored. He was at a table where more gems had been piled on top of the dusty stone surface.

“Thorin…” Ayla said softly, slowly approaching him. The look on his face as he stared at the glittering stones, it was a look she recognized in his grandfather when she had observed him one evening, wandering around his treasury and fondling at the gold. It was painful to see it on his grandson. When she was close enough she reached up and touched his shoulder, though the pauldron of his robes were so thick it was doubtful he felt her touch. “Thorin.” she said again. He finally looked up at her and in the dim light she could see the shadows under his eyes. He obviously wasn’t sleeping, his obsession depriving him of rest.

“Ayla…forgive me. I didn’t want you to see me like this.” he said softly.

“Its fine, I understand you’re frustrated. You’re just under a lot of stress. You need to slow down and take a breath. When was the last time you slept?”

“Did the elves treat you well?” he asked.

“Of course they did.” Ayla said, “Thorin, you need to rest.”

“Come, sit down, I have something to show you.” he said, taking her hand and leading her to a bench. Ayla sat down, worried that he was entering the manic phase of the sickness, she will need to tread lightly. Thorin went to a chest and opened it up, holding up a necklace of diamonds as he looked at her. It was a stunningly beautiful necklace, but Ayla felt that it had been tainted by Thorin’s sudden madness as the fever was quickly taking root in him.

“Thorin, will you not talk to me?” she asked, her concern for him only growing.

“The white gems of Lasgalen,” he said, as he approached her with the necklace. “I know of an elven lord who will pay a pretty price for these.” his eyes flicked up to Ayla’s as a crude grin appeared on his face. “Originally made as a gift for his queen.” His face then darkened as he tossed the necklace aside into a pile of other diamonds before suddenly grabbing Ayla’s head, forcing her to look at him, startling Ayla as she looked into his wild eyes. “He cannot have my queen!” He crushed his mouth onto hers and Ayla immediately pushed him away as she stood up, eyes wide in shock and disgust. He looked back up at her, his eyes dark and unfamiliar. 

“This isn’t you, this place…it’s obviously making you sick.” Ayla said, feeling afraid of the dwarf, her friend, for the first time. She may be taller and possibly faster than him, but if he got a hold of her again, she knew she wasn’t strong enough to push him away a second time.

“I’m perfectly fine,” he said, still leering at her. “But it’s clear to me that you were sent by them…sent by that elf traitor!”

“I came on my own, Thorin. Listen, please, the people of Lake-town are on their way here. They need shelter and supplies; they don’t have anything more than the clothes on their backs. Show them that you’re a King of his word. Show them that you have honor and mercy.”

Thorin’s leer softened and then changed to one of shame as he looked down. Ayla began to hope that she was finally getting through to him as she slowly approached him. In the past she wasn’t very good at talking people down from a ledge, but over the years she got quite good at mitigating conflicts. Once she was in front of him she reached down and took his thick hands.

“You’re a good man, Thorin. You’re honorable and I know deep down you want to help those people because you’ve been in their place before.” 

He let out a shaky breath, his thick fingers gently squeezing her hands. “Thank you, Ayla, for helping me see clearly.” Ayla felt some relief as she smiled down at Thorin, seeing the dwarf she knew returning when suddenly his hold on her hands were tight, beginning to hurt the bones in her fingers. He pulled her down, catching her off guard as she was forced to her knees; a sharp yelp escaped her when she felt a pop in her right knee. “I see clearly that you’re trying to take me for a fool!”

He pushed her down on her back, the back of her head hitting the stone floor and making white lights flash in her eyes as he straddled her stomach, his hands holding her shoulders down, pinning her in place. Ayla struggled, mentally kicking herself for letting her guard down when she should’ve known better. As she had feared, he was too strong for her physically as he glared down at her, the wildness back in his eyes.

“For years I’ve loved you! Pined for you! I give you my heart and all you’ve done is stamp down on it!” he yelled, one hand found its way onto Ayla’s throat, squeezing her airway. She clawed at his wrist and frantically tried to push him off of her as his hand slowly crushed her windpipe. “It is my turn to take from you!”

Tears stung her eyes as she struggled to get free. Her vision was beginning to blur and her lungs burned, aching for air as her frantic struggling grew weaker by the second.

“Thorin, stop! You’re killing her!” came Bilbo’s voice and suddenly Thorin was pulled off of Ayla. She sucked in a breath of air and coughed as she rolled onto her side and pushed herself up. She touched her neck, still able to feel his hands there as she looked back at Thorin. Bilbo was at her side, helping her sit up and patting her back and the strange headache was creeping back into Ayla. Balin was also there, standing by Bilbo, looking down at her with worry and then at Thorin who was being held back by Dwalin and Fili and Kili.

“Have you lost your mind?!” Dwalin yelled, still holding Thorin back with his nephews.

“Uncle! What has gotten into you?” Fili asked, “Ayla is our friend!”

“It’s best you get out of her, lass.” Balin said, helping Ayla to her feet.

She didn’t argue and quickly left without a word to spare, his behavior was too aggressive and out of character, the madness in his eyes scared her.

“Are you satisfied now?” Balin asked as he looked at Thorin who seemed to be calming down. “You attacked Ayla! Out of everyone here in this room you attacked the one person who came to help you! You have changed, Thorin! We all can see that.”

“She came here to help us, uncle!” Kili said, “She is our only chance of avoiding war with the humans.”

“Don’t you care enough to realize that you are creating a rift between yourself and your friends?” Balin asked. When he got no response from Thorin, the elder dwarf shook his head in disapproval and left him there, and he was joined by the rest.

Left behind, Thorin could only thing about finding the Arkenstone. To him finding the stone took priority over mending what was left of his relationship with Ayla.

xxxxx

Ayla sat out by the wall, her neck sore from Thorin’s crushing grip and her right knee ached from when she fell on it. She knew a bruise would appear within the next few hours and would take a day or two before it vanished. It had definitely been a long time since she felt actual fear for her own safety. It was a dark echo of the days when Thorin would get violent with her, leading up to her falling to her near death. Regardless of what his intentions were, it had scared her. She felt it was too late to reverse whatever is happening to Thorin. 

“Auntie,” Kili said softly, him and his brother coming to check on her. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, just a little rattled.” she said, her voice was weak and raspy.

“Our uncle, he’s not like that normally.” Fili said, “It’s this place, I think.”

“It is this place.” she agreed, standing up. “Don’t take this the wrong way, boys, but I hope the Arkenstone is never found. It’s not going to do anything but make your uncle’s condition worse.”

“Why would you say that?” Kili asked.

“Because it drove your great-grandfather mad. And I see the same thing in Thorin.” she moved to head towards the wall, intent on leaving. She couldn’t stay in the ruins of Erebor, she couldn’t risk staying near Thorin less she wanted to tempt fate and see if he will attempt in killing her. He might actually succeed. She climbed up the wall, seeing that it was almost complete.

“Wait, where are you going?” Kili asked.

“You’re not leaving us, are you, My Lady?” asked Ori.

Ayla turned to look at the dwarves. “I can’t stay here. But I promise you, I’ll do what I can to prevent a war from happening. Take care of each other.” She climbed down the wall and once on the ground, she walked (actually limped) back towards Dale, already seeing that the refugees from Lake-town had made camp and lit fires. Night had already fallen and with only her jacket to keep her warm it wasn’t enough to keep the cold from seeping into her bones.

When she finally arrived into the ruins of Dale, she walked past the refugees, squatting in buildings that still had roofs over them, huddled around fires to stay warm. She walked up the cobbled streets, the echoing memories of the past ringing in her ears as she navigated her way around the ruins. She stopped every so often, checking on the people who were injured and sick, taking note that they had no food or water. The poor people wouldn’t last three days in the cold and she just hoped that help will come soon.

“You are a strange woman,” Bard said as he walked up to Ayla while she was wrapping a man’s arm with a dirty rag (unfortunately). “You appear human but you know elven medicine.”

Ayla laughed lightly, ignoring the scratchiness in her throat from her injury. “You’re right about that, I am very strange and I know elven medicine.”

“Thank you,” Bard suddenly said, “You’re not one of us from Lake-town but you stayed after our home was destroyed to help.”

“I stayed because your people lost everything, and none of them have much knowledge about plants that can help them.” Ayla stood up once she was done with the man’s injury, wincing when her right knee gave a painful twinge before she moved on, looking around for others who needed help. Bard followed her, watching her curiously. 

“Those elves that were with you, they listened to you. Why is that? Why would they listen to a human?” he asked, grabbing her shoulder and turning her around to face him. “Who are you?”

She smiled, figuring she will humor him as she kept on walking. “I’ve been called many names in the past; witch, healer, Teacher of Medicine, The Surgeon, Speaker of the Elves, Friend of the Dwarves, the most common I’ve heard though is Mother of Mercy.” she stopped and looked back at him, seeing the disbelief on his face. “But you may call me Ayla.”

“Mother of Mercy…that’s nothing more than an old wives tale. A figure for mothers to pray to for their sick children to recover.” Bard said.

Ayla shrugged her shoulders. “You asked who I am, and I told you.”

“The Mother of Mercy is said to be an elderly woman, you are clearly not.”

“I just take care of my skin. Too much sun actually ages you.” she joked, “You don’t have to believe me, but I have no reason to lie.”

“If you are friends to the dwarves, then you know of Thorin and his company?”

“Yes, and don’t bother asking for me to speak to him, I’ve already tried.” Ayla said her previously light mood now heavy as she touched her sore throat. “He won’t listen to reason.”

He nodded his head and stopped her by putting a hand on her arm. “I feared as much. I knew he would go back on his word. But thank you again, and for also keeping my children safe.”

She stared at his face and couldn’t help the smile curve her lips. “Now I know why you look familiar.” she said, looking at Bard. “You’re Girian’s descendant. You look very much like him.”

“How would you know that? That was decades ago.” Bard said.

Ayla’s smile grew. “He was a good man, too, much like you. He cared for the well-being of his people.” 

Most of the severely wounded had been gathered in the old city hall, cloistered together around lit fires for warmth against the oncoming winter. It broke Ayla’s heart to see an entire town uprooted from their homes again, seeking shelter as their lives were forever changed.

She could barely sleep that night, her mind too full of thoughts and scenarios of everything that can go wrong and everything that had already gone wrong. It felt like an eternity for the sun to finally rise and that was when at first light she noticed an army of elves filtering through the city, sneaking up on the poor humans who were still asleep. Yet the sight of their gleaming armor brought Ayla some sense of comfort knowing the Thranduil answered her call for aid. It wasn’t until a few hours later when the people began to stir was when their presence was made known. Bard had come out, seeing the army of elves and saw Ayla had already been up before him.

Ayla walked ahead of him, the elven soldiers turning to let her pass and then returning to their original stance. Bard followed after her as she made her way across the pavilion. Once he was past through the wall of elves he saw the Elvenking riding up upon a magnificent great elk. He watched as the Elvenking halted his steed in front of Ayla. As he got closer, he began to catch their conversation, the tone between the two and the way they spoke to each other was too casual for acquaintances. He couldn’t see Ayla’s face as her back was to him but the look in the Elvenking’s eyes was a look he recognized because he himself had the same eyes for his wife before she passed: love. Unfettered, pure love. And the very second the elf’s eyes flicked up to meet Bard’s they were instantly steeled over and cold, sending ice through his veins.

He faced and killed a dragon and would not cow before the Elvenking. “My Lord Thranduil, we did not look to see you here.” Bard said, still perplexed as to why he and his army were here.

“I heard you needed aid.” Thranduil said as he motioned to one side and a cart of food driven by two elves came into view. The people from Lake-town were slowly coming out, relieved to see the help they were receiving.

“You have saved us. I do not know how to thank you!” Bard said.

“Your gratitude is misplaced. I did not come on your behalf. I’ve come to reclaim something of mine.” Thranduil said, looking straight at Bard. He signaled his soldiers to begin their march. He looked at Ayla who just shook her head in disappointment. 

“You will go to war over a handful of gems?” Bard asked incredulously.

“The heirlooms of my people are not lightly forsaken.” Thranduil said.

“We are allies in this. My people also have a claim on the riches in that mountain.” Bard said, “Let me speak with Thorin.”

“You would try to reason with a dwarf?” Thranduil asked.

“To avoid war? Yes.” Bard said.

“I’ve already told you, he won’t listen.” Ayla said, “He no longer recognizes his friends from his enemies.” Ayla turned away and walked towards the cart where she greeted Kwenthrith warmly, hugging the elf maiden.

“I’m glad to see you’re safe.” Kwenthrith said.

“Please tell me he’s really not here because of those stupid diamonds.” Ayla said quietly.

“They’re more than just diamonds to our people, but I understand your point. I just hope that lives will not be lost this day.” Kwenthrith said.

Ayla sighed heavily, wishing for this headache to just end or simply just hope to implode. Either way, she didn’t want to see another war over something as petty as gold. She’s already had her fill. She heard the patter of hooves approaching her from behind, alerting her that Thranduil was approaching. She turned and looked up at him.

“Thank you again for coming.” she said, trying to hide the hoarseness of her voice.

“I will say that I was rather cross with you for not returning by my command. Of course, then again, it is you after all.” he said, seeing Ayla smile. “But I must admit I was intrigued that you had the nerve to send my messenger back with this request for aid.”

“Why pass up an opportunity to upset dwarves?” Ayla said, clearly being sarcastic and seeing the hint of a smirk appear on his face, making Ayla a bit weak in the knees (especially since she had injured it less than ten hours ago). Thranduil moved on as his soldiers positioned themselves strategically upon the walls of Dale, facing Erebor. Erecting tents for both soldiers and the refugees.

Bard returned from the gates of Erebor on horseback with a disappointed look as he halted his horse in front of Thranduil. Clearly his plea with Thorin did not go as planned. “He will give us nothing.”

“Such a pity.” the Elvenking said, not at all surprised. “Still, you tried.”

“I do not understand. Why? Why would he risk war?” Bard said, looking back at the gates in time to see part of a statue being dropped, destroying the bridge that linked up to the front gate.

“It is fruitless to reason with them. They understand only one thing. We attack at dawn.” Thranduil said, turning his elk around and slowly heading back into the ruin city. “Are you with us?”

Bard dismounted his horse and looked around, seeing the elves helping his people, some even attending to the sick and injured with medicine and clean dressing. He saw Ayla among his people, tending to a young girl’s injured leg that had a long laceration down the side of her shin. He watched in fascination as she cleaned the wound with clean water and applied a dark paste to the wound and then taking a needle and thread, she sutured the wound closed and the child did not cry in pain.

“You truly are the Mother of Mercy.” he said as he approached.

“If that’s how you want to see me, then so be it.” Ayla said, still suturing the wound, weaving it closed with such skill and efficiency that the stitching was even and no blood leaked out from the wound. 

“Are you a witch, then?” he asked.

“How dare you!” Kwenthrith said in Ayla’s defense. The elf surprised Bard as he did not notice her presence until then. Strikingly beautiful as her kind was, with dark hair and violet eyes, staring at him fiercely in defense of her Lady. Bard admired such loyalty the elven maiden had for the healer.

“I could be a witch.” Ayla said with a shrug of her shoulders. “But as far as I can tell, I’m just as human as you are.”

“A human with odd alliances.” Bard said casually.

Kwenthrith stepped forward in Bard’s line of sight with a cold glare. “She is not some common human like yourself.”

“That’s enough, _Mellon.”_ Ayla said, “How much opium paste did you bring?”

“Hopefully enough.” Kwenthrith said, still glaring at Bard.

“My Lady,” said another elf as he approached them. “Lord Thranduil has requested your audience in private.”

Ayla tied off the thread with a secure knot before she stood, cleaning her hands off with a wet rag as Kwenthrith took over and wrapped the child’s leg. Ayla looked to Bard; her expression was gentle but also guarded. “Instead of wasting your time on me and my ‘odd’ alliances, how about you spend it on your people? They’re inexperienced and they will need all the guidance their _leader_ has to offer.” she tossed the wet rag at him, of which he caught, and walked away with her elven escort.

Kwenthrith finished wrapping the child’s leg and stood up to face bard again, still looking at him with dislike. 

“I meant no offense, my Lady.” Bard said.

“Lady Ayla may be quick to dismiss such names but I do not. She is a great healer that deserves the respect of all.” Kwenthrith said before haughtily walking away, leaving Bard in her wake.

xxxxx

Ayla arrived to the Elvenking’s tent; the flaps were drawn down for “privacy,” leaving him and Ayla alone. Ayla resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the décor in the tent; it was mindboggling as to why he would need so much stuff when they were clearly on the brink of war. There was even a separate attachment of his tent that had a bed! Was that even necessary? How long was he planning to stick around? It was better to not ask, feeling like she will lose control of herself and let her eyes roll. But she couldn’t fight against the idea that instantly popped into her head of them both naked and making love for everyone to hear. Why the hell did he have to be so magnetic that she could never get too far from his gravitational pull?

It also didn’t help that he had removed his armor and was dressed in his silver robes with the black leaf patterns that looked too heavenly on him. And the silver crown wrapped around his head only added to his beauty. Wrapped around his shoulders hung his red velvet cloak, reminding Ayla of the cold and it made her shiver.

“Tell me,” he began calmly as he poured wine into two goblets. “Why did you leave _this time?_ And why should I forgive you?” he carried the goblets in his hands, handing one to Ayla. 

“This time it wasn’t out of spite.” she replied, taking a sip of the sweet and tart ruby liquid, feeling it already warming her chilled body. “Tauriel came to me, she asked for my help.”

“And why would she ask for your help?”

“One of the dwarves, Kili, was poisoned by an orc’s arrow. He would have died without medicine.” she looked up at him, showing him that she wasn’t lying. “I had every intention of coming back; I just didn’t foresee the dragon attacking Lake-town. And then the people needed help…” she let out a tired sigh. “I couldn’t leave them to die.”

“Hmm…as I have said before, your heart is too big and your net is too wide.”

She couldn’t stop the giggle that came up from her chest, those words he said to her that night before they made up resonated within her, reminding her that once her heart wasn’t big enough and her net was too small. She looked up at him again, seeing him smile at her and knowing that he wasn’t angry this time.

“Did I mention how grateful I am that you came?” she asked, playing coy.

“In words, yes,” he said, clearly catching on as he stepped closer to her where she could feel his body heat radiating off of him. “But perhaps you can show me your gratitude.” Ayla’s smile grew as she raised her face up to him as his came down, their lips touching tenderly.

His skin was almost scalding against her cold lips, but they quickly warmed up the longer their lips remained touching. His warmth lured the rest of her in as she pressed herself up against him, feeling one arm wrap around her waist and a firm, hot palm pressing against her mid-back. Pulling back, he took their goblets and set them down on the table before picking her up and walking over to his chair. Sitting on his lap and with both hands free, she cradled his head in her hands as she continued to kiss his perfect lips. His hands roamed up her back, one sliding down her side to rest on her hip. He moved his mouth down her chin and to her neck only for her to yelp in pain and jerk away.

He looked at her with concern while her eyes were cast down and a hand gingerly on her throat. Ayla had completely forgotten that Thorin had choked her in his fit of mania, having been preoccupied with tending to the wounded and sick. Thranduil carefully pulled her hand away to see her neck, a low growl of anger coming out at the sight of the purple bruise. He didn’t need to ask who gave her the bruise.

“Oakenshield will pay dearly for this insult.” he said, lightly tracing a finger on the delicate skin. Ayla had no words to defend Thorin, she had tried to reason with him and in turn he tried to kill her. “That dwarf preached about honor and yet he did this to you…to a woman he claimed his undying love to.” Ayla’s eyes flicked up to his, locking with the cool grey of his eyes. 

“I knew the risk; I just didn’t realize how quickly the sickness took hold of him. He isn’t himself.” she let out a long sigh and dropped her head to his shoulder. “All this trouble over something as petty as gold.” she said, shivering slightly despite the warmth he radiated. “But is it really worth fighting over? Let them keep their treasure and save your people from a pointless fight.”

“It has become more than just a grudge over a chest of jewels.” he said, wrapping his velvet cloak around her. “He dared to lay his hands on you. To leave such a mark on your skin…that I cannot allow to go unpunished.”

“I just wish it didn’t have to come to this…to war.”

“For you, _nin mel,_ I will give them one last chance.” he said.

Ayla raised her head to look at him and smiled. “Thank you,” she said softly, leaning forward and planting a kiss to his soft lips. 

He touched his forehead to hers, the metal band that was his crown felt cool against her forehead. Their noses lightly brushing each other. It was these quiet moments with him that Ayla treasured the most, no words needing to be said as they simply basked in each other’s company. The touch of their hands intimate, resting on each other’s hearts, needing nothing more than to feel the gentle pulsing reverberating through their chests.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war takes more its toll and Ayla mourns for the dead, but years go by and time heals up the pain but a new threat arises taking Legolas and Aragorn away on an adventure that Ayla will be unable to follow. Then dreams begin to haunt Ayla as she is coming to the conclusion that her life in Middle Earth just might not be as real as she believes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own LOTR or The Hobbit

After checking on the wounded and satisfied that they were improving despite the conditions they were all in, Ayla returned to Thranduil’s tent. With a change of clothes and clean water to wash her face and hands with, Ayla felt refreshed. Tired but refreshed. She was dressed warmly in a gown and robe that matched Thranduil’s, and her tangled hair combed and styled into a simple braid that hung over one shoulder. She and Thranduil were just about to enjoy some spiced wine when their quiet moment had been interrupted by a disheveled grey wizard marching into their tent.

Gandalf had ridden into the city with urgency and barged into Thranduil’s tent where he forced a council with the Elvenking, Bard, and Ayla. “You must set aside your petty grievances with the dwarves.” Thranduil and Bard exchanged looks while the wizard continued on his rant. “War is coming! The cesspits of Dol Guldur have been emptied. You’re all in mortal danger.”

“What are you talking about?” Bard asked.

“I can see you know nothing of wizards.” Thranduil said as he stood from his substitute throne, stepping to the small table in the middle of the tent space, refilling the goblets with wine and handing one to Bard. “They are like winter thunder on a wild wind rolling in from a distance, breaking hard in alarm. But sometimes a storm is just a storm.” He turned to look at Gandalf pointedly, seeing the irritated look on the wizard’s face.

“Not this time.” Gandalf insisted, and then turned to Ayla. “My Lady, have you not informed them?”

Thranduil and Bard looked to Ayla patiently while she folded her arms neatly below her breasts. “Orcs did attack us in Lake-town the same night Smaug destroyed it. And Legolas did mention seeing a pack of warg riders from the north. But I just assumed they were the same orcs that had been tailing Thorin and his company.” Ayla said, “But what does any of that have to do with what’s happening now?”

Gandalf’s weathered fingers tightened around his staff with nervous energy. “Armies of orcs are on the move. These are fighters. They have been bred for war. Our enemy has summoned his full strength.” he said.

“Why show his hand now?” Thranduil asked, already growing tired of the wizard’s company as he moved to stand beside Ayla, placing a hand to the small of her back.

“Because we started it. We forced him when the company of Thorin Oakenshield set out to reclaim their homeland.” Gandalf said.

“I’m sorry… _We_ started nothing.” Ayla said in a clipped tone, her shoulders tensing up. “What brought us to this point was by circumstance, which, if I’m not mistaken, started with _you.”_

“You have every right to be upset, My Lady. The dwarves were never meant to reach Erebor.” Gandalf said, leading the way out of the tent. Thranduil looked down at Ayla who then looked up at him, both sharing the skeptical look. He inclined his head, letting her out first before following with Bard bringing up the rear. “Azog the Defiler was sent to kill them. His master seeks control of the mountain. Not just for the treasure within but for where it stands, for its strategic position.” They stopped just a dozen steps away from the tent to look out at the gates of Erebor. “This is the gateway to reclaiming the lands of Angmar in the north. If that fell kingdom should rise again…Rivendell, Lorien, the Shire…even Gondor itself will fall.”

“These orc armies you speak of, Mithrandir, where are they?” Thranduil asked, still skeptical of the wizard’s frantic warning. 

“Are they coming from Gundabad?” Ayla asked, remembering that Legolas and Tauriel had gone up that way to investigate if the orcs that attacked them came from there. 

Gandalf did not have an answer for them.

“Enough of this, we have more pressing matters to prepare for. Come, Ayla.” Thranduil said, turning to return to his tent. Ayla looked at Gandalf, wanting to believe him but without proof she couldn’t stand by his words. Not like when they were in Rivendell and he had shown them the Nazgul blade. This, now, was entirely different and Gandalf’s claims were nothing more than words at the moment. Snow was now gently falling, steadily gaining speed and knowing the region, the snow will quickly become larger and heavier, blanketing everything in white.

“My Lady…” Gandalf began, his eyes pleading but Ayla shook her head and stepped closer to him.

“I don’t know what you saw in Dol Guldur, but whatever it is now is not the time.” she said, “The people from Lake-town are scared enough, don’t break their fragile morale by scaring them further.” She then turned away, going back into the tent where Bard had held open the flap, letting her in before following, dropping the flap behind him.

“What do we do now?” Bard asked, looking at the couple. He had thought earlier how striking they looked together in the pavilion when Thranduil had brought aid, and now, in matching clothes, they were beautiful beyond comprehension. “How do we know if what he says is true?”

“We don’t,” Ayla said, “And as much as I hate to admit, he’s never been wrong.”

“And yet there is no sign of this orc army.” Thranduil said.

Bard shook his head before he turned and left, needing to check on his children.

“Ayla, earlier you mentioned Legolas chasing after orcs to the north. Is that where he has gone?” Thranduil asked.

“No, he went to Gundabad with Tauriel.” Ayla said.

“And why would he go there?”

Ayla bit her bottom lip, “I, umm, may have told him to investigate?”

He gave her that hard glare she knew too well, and normally Ayla wouldn’t be so intimidated, but because this time it had to do with Legolas… _You’re so dead, Ayla._ she thought.

“Before you say anything, let me explain; Legolas said that the orcs that attacked us in Lake-town bore the mark from Gundabad.” Ayla said, seeing that he was about to speak she quickly cut him off. “It was his idea in the first place I just…gave him a push? Wait, admitting that isn’t helping me. But even if I were to say not to go he would have gone anyways. Your son is a bit of a late bloomer when it comes to his rebellious phase.”

Thranduil turned around and walked back to his chair, taking a seat before resuming his glare at her. She exhaled loudly and rolled her eyes.

“Just say something already!” she said, his silence beginning to twist her stomach in knots.

“Sending my son there had better be worth the danger.” he said, his tone eerily calm.

Oh crap.

“Yeah…let’s hope.” 

xxxxx

Night fell upon them and torches were lit, the humans taking shelter in the decaying buildings while the injured lay in the tents to hide from the night’s frigid chill and snowfall of winter. Ayla stood in Thranduil’s tent with Bard and Gandalf once more, and clearly the wizard was at odds with the other men while Ayla found herself stuck in the middle, being pulled back and forth as she played referee.

“Since when has my council counted for so little? What do you think I’m trying to do?” Gandalf asked, his eyes going to Ayla who stood next to Thranduil, desperate to have at least her voice on his side.

“I think you’re trying to save you dwarvish friends.” Thranduil said from where he reclined casually in his seat, as Gandalf turned and smoked his pipe, puffing in agitation. “And I admire your loyalty to them. But it does not dissuade me from my course.” he stood from his chair and approached the wizard as he looked at Gandalf’s profile. “You started this, Mithrandir. You will forgive me if I finish it. Are the archers in position?” he asked as one of his soldiers stepped forward.

“Yes, My Lord.” he said.

“Give the order. If anything moves on that mountain, kill it.” The elf soldier nodded his head curtly before turning sharply and marching off to send his King’s direct orders. “The dwarves are out of time.” Gandalf looked to Ayla with desperation. “Do not waste your breath to persuade her, Mithrandir, Oakenshield has shown his true colors when he dared to harm her.”

Ayla clicked her tongue in annoyance as she folded her arms in front of her. “I can speak for myself. The situation is no longer up for debate, Gandalf. I’m sorry.”

“So then you would allow this war to happen? Allow your friends to die over some gold?” Gandalf asked, disappointed that Ayla was ready to sacrifice Thorin and his company. “How can you turn your back on them? You are the only one here who has known them the longest.” 

“Talking circles around each other and coming up with no solutions is wasting time. I’ve already tried to speak to Thorin. He is lost to the dragon sickness, and his men will not leave him out of loyalty. We’re out of options.” Ayla said.

“Bowman, do you agree with this?” Gandalf asked, going to Bard as he desperately searched the man’s face. “Is gold so important to you? Would you buy it with the blood of dwarves?”

“It will not come to that.” Bard said with confidence, “This is a fight they cannot win.”

“That won’t stop them,” said a fifth voice, as the four looked to the entrance of the tent to see Bilbo. “You think the dwarves will surrender? They won’t. They will fight to the death to defend their own.”

“Bilbo Baggins!” Gandalf said; glad to see the hobbit was safe and unharmed.

“If I’m not mistaken, this is the halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guards.” said Thranduil, staring at Bilbo who stood awkwardly under his gaze.

“Hobbits are surprising that way.” Ayla said, smiling at Bilbo while her strange headache returned. Was it because of Bilbo or did he have something on him that made her feel ill?

“Yes, sorry about that.” Bilbo said, he then stepped forward to the table. “I came…to give you this.” he placed a small bundle wrapped in cloth on the table and unwrapped it, revealing the magnificent jewel: the Arkenstone.

Thranduil rose from his seat, his eyes fixed upon the stone. “The heart of the mountain. The King’s Jewel.”

“And worth a King’s ransom.” said Bard as he and everyone looked to the hobbit. “How is this yours to give?”

“I took it as my fourteenth share of the treasure.” Bilbo said.

“Why would you do this? You owe us no loyalty.” Bard said, still having trouble comprehending the hobbit’s reason.

“I’m not doing it for you.” Bilbo said with a shake of his head.

“Then who are you doing this for?” Ayla asked; trying to stay focused on the conversation while fighting the growing tension in her head.

“I know the dwarves can be obstinate and pigheaded and difficult. They’re suspicious and secretive with the worst manners you can possibly imagine. But they are also brave and kind…and loyal to a fault. And I’ve grown very fond of ‘em. And I would save them if I can. Now, Thorin values this stone above all else.” Bilbo said, hesitantly looking up at Ayla and remembering the scene of Thorin trying to choke her to death. Knowing that his words rang painfully true at the statement that the stone was more important than his friends, but Bilbo was determined to help Thorin return to the man he was. “In exchange for its return, I believe he will give you what you are owed. There will be no need for war.”

Bard, Thranduil and Ayla all looked at each other. The men with skepticism and Ayla with a small light of hope. The Arkenstone was once more wrapped up in the cloth and then put into a chest, locked away for safekeeping with the key in Ayla’s possession. Gandalf took his leave with Bilbo and Bard returned to his children after arranging a plan for tomorrow. Ayla felt the release of her headache once Bilbo had left with Gandalf and felt drained from all the arguing, reminding her as to why she avoided these sorts of conferences in the first place if she could help it.

She took a moment to compose herself, waiting to see if her headache will return. It was so strange, why would it happen so suddenly when only Bilbo approached her? She decided not to think too much on it tonight as she turned and walked up to Thranduil, placing her palms on his chest as she looked up at him. “Whatever happens tomorrow, please come back to me.”

He placed his hands over hers, his palms warm like always as he looked down into her eyes. “I was going to say the same to you. I want you to remain within the city.”

She wanted to protest, not wanting to be left behind but stopped herself when she remembered that there were still injured people. She looked down at their hands and nodded her head. As stubborn as they both were, Ayla knew that fighting will happen and she was no use to anyone in battle.

_“Nin mel,”_ he said softly, placing a hand to the side of her face. “I promise to return to you so long as I know you are waiting for me.” Ayla looked up at him, gazing into his grey eyes. 

“I love you,” she said softly.

He smiled down at her, caressing her cheek lovingly as he lowered his head, pressing his lips to hers. 

xxxxx

(Past)

Four months since she woke up in Middle Earth and _still_ she had absolutely no idea what happened. What cosmic cruelty brought her to this nightmare of a nerd paradise? It boggled her mind and she still couldn’t remember what she had been doing before all of this. All she could piece together was waking up at an ungodly hour in January, got ready for work, stopped by her usual coffee shop and then…nothing. That was where things then got complicated. She definitely was missing something but she just didn’t know what.

What she did know was that she was in Middle Earth (wherever the hell that was), it was the beginning of the Third Age, she is currently in a country called Rohan, and she discovered that she can’t kill people to defend herself or others. If she killed then she would be paralyzed from a white hot pain that was worse than death. And on the subject of death, she couldn’t die!—well, she _can_ die but she didn’t stay dead.

Was she undead?

The only explanation she could compare her strange situation to was that of a video game scenario, if your character died they would come back if you had an extra life on deck. But in her case, when she came back from death, the process was horrible. Everything would all come back to her at once, shocking her brain and system into overdrive, overwhelming her to the point where she wanted to stay dead. Then there was the adjustment period, reining in her erratic emotions and building up her self-control. For the first two weeks it was a struggle to not cry, laugh or scream or do all three for no reason. She would literally isolate herself, find a cave or a hollowed out tree and just wait it out until everything calmed down. Noise and light were the worst after resurrecting, her sight and hearing too sensitive to bear it.

The worst part was she couldn’t even kill an orc without being crippled by pain. Talk about unfair! At least she wasn’t docked points for using non-lethal self-defense, so long as she didn’t kill anyone she was fine. She supposed kick-boxing and martial arts as a teenager paid off. Hopefully all she had to do to stay alive and avoid agonizing pain was to keep helping people, or at least avoid conflict.

But how long can she keep it up?

How long until she found her way home?

xxxxx

(Present)

By daybreak Ayla watched as Thranduil led his army towards the gates of Erebor, dressed in his fine armor and riding on his great elk. She found herself admiring how majestic he looked as he rode off, comparing him to the paintings of kings she had seen in museums and text books, only he was so much better than an old painting. She went to stand at the outlook, watching as the army approached Erebor, hoping that bartering the Arkenstone for an even trade would be taken.

Please don’t let it come to war.

Ayla watched nervously, wishing she had gone with Thranduil to the gate but knew that her presence wouldn’t make a difference. Kwenthrith stood beside her, watching as well. Ayla cursed under her breath when she saw the army of dwarves arrive at the top of the hill. It was Dain, of the Iron Hills. She instantly knew this wasn’t going to end well and had to fight the urge to go running out there instead of standing far away. She hated war…she hated the death it brought. She wanted to scream when the two sides engaged in battle, the skirmish making her stomach turn. But then her blood ran cold when the sound of rock cracking and crumbling came. The ground shook, sending tremors as far as where Ayla stood in the city ruins and inciting cries of panic from the people taking refuge within the already crumbling ruins. It had ceased the fighting as all heads turned to the other side of the valley as three massive worms sprung out from the rock hills before retreating back into their holes.

An eerie silence fell over the valley.

A horn then blared from the north and a legion of orcs came streaming out. Both elves and dwarves disengaged from one another. The dwarves rushing forward, creating a phalanx wall of iron shields and spears. And as the orcs were only a few paces away was when the elves leapt into action, flying over the dwarves and catching the orc enemies by surprise as the former opposing armies joined forces. While the allied troops of elves and dwarves fought the first wave of orcs, another legion of orcs marched towards the city.

They were surrounded.

Ayla turned and rushed towards the unarmed people, yelling for them to get to safety. The elven and human soldiers that had remained in the city had taken arms, readying themselves for battle. Once the walls had been breached the orcs flooded through the city, killing everyone in their path. Ayla directed the people towards the great hall, knowing it would trap them all in but hopefully it would buy them all time. She helped an elderly woman who could barely hovel up the uneven streets with her walking stick. A man came up to them and took the old woman, carrying her on his back.

A scream escaped Ayla when a chunk of wall nearly fell on her and an ogre jumped down in front of her. Terrified Ayla let her instincts take over and ran. Looking over her shoulder she saw the ogre chasing after her, swinging his massive spiked club at her. She ducked her head to avoid a fatal hit.

“Oh shit-oh shit-ohshitohshitohshit!” Looking forward she willed herself to run faster and then looked back in time to duck again. Looking ahead she saw a small hole in the wall. She ducked again and then dropped her weight back and slid into the crack where she dropped to a lower level. She missed her footing and fell, hitting her head and jogging an old memory of the past, when she first came to Middle Earth and how slow she was to adapt. Resistant to change. How she ran from danger and letting others die while she selfishly thought of only her own safety. 

Time certainly changed.

Ayla groaned in pain as she rolled onto her side and slowly pushed herself up. Her head throbbed where it had been hit, touching the area tenderly and feeling wetness on her fingers. She pulled her hand back to see blood. Her blood. The sound of screaming and clashing of metal slowly returned to flood her sense of hearing as she tried to focus on what she had been doing previously. She stood up, leaning against the wall for support as her head slowly stopped spinning. More clanging of metal. More screams of terror and battle cries. 

Two orcs came around the corner, spotting Ayla and immediately began to sprint towards her with their massive swords swinging. Ayla’s eyes widened as she screamed and ducked, frantically moving, avoiding each swing as her feet peddled backwards until she tripped over a dead body. She inhaled sharply as she looked up just as Bard appeared in time, cutting the head off of one and then stabbing the other in the ribs.

“My Lady!” he gasped, reaching down and helping Ayla up. “Are you hurt?”

“Bard, tell your men to fall back! There’s just too many.” Ayla said frantically.

“Get the women and children to safety.” he said before hurrying off back into battle. Ayla ducked and weaved from attacks and falling buildings and jumped over dead bodies of orcs and humans and elves. Turning a corner she climbed up a flight of stone stairs to the market, yelping in surprise when an ogre fell dead in front of her. She moved around it and kept to the wall when she came across Gandalf facing off with another ogre.

His incantation spell failed as the crystal on the end of his staff did not respond. The wizard tried to adjust it as the ogre swung its mace down. Ayla ran forward and pulled Gandalf out of the way in time as the mace crashed into the cobble stone street. Gandalf turned around and stabbed the end of his staff into the ground, the crystal lighting up for a moment before going out. Ayla again pulled him backwards as the ogre swung at them again. The two of them moving together to avoid a fatal hit. There was an indistinct scream from behind them and suddenly the catapult on the back of a dead ogre launched a man in a dress into the other ogre’s mouth where it choked on the body and fell dead.

Not bothering to question what just happened the two moved on. Gandalf fought his way through the onslaught of orcs with Ayla right behind him. Reaching the rampart they could see the men and women rallying together against the orc invasion.

“We may yet survive this.” Gandalf said. Ayla nodded until she felt the buzzing of her headache returning.

“Gandalf!” called Bilbo, running up to them and then turning to point towards the hill where the orc signal flags stood. “It’s Thorin!”

“And Fili, Kili and Dwalin.” Gandalf said, seeing the four riding on the backs of goats up the hill. “He’s taking his best warriors.”

“To do what?” Bilbo asked.

“To cut the head off the snake.” Gandalf said.

“They’ll need backup.” Ayla said.

“I quite agree.” Gandalf said.

“Gandalf!” they heard a voice call and the three of them turned to see Legolas and Tauriel riding up the street. They stopped and dismounted.

“Legolas.” Ayla said, relieved to see him and Tauriel as she rushed forward. She hugged them both, happy to see them safe.

“There is a second army approaching. Bolg leads a force of Gundabad orcs. They are almost upon us.” Legolas said, “Ayla was right to send us to investigate.”

“Gundabad? This was their plan all along.” Gandalf said, feeling dread creeping into his old bones. “Azog engages our forces, then Bolg sweeps in from the north.”

“Th-the north? Where is the north exactly?” Bilbo stuttered.

“Ravenhill.” Ayla said, looking back towards where they last saw Thorin and his three warriors. 

“Thorin is up there.” Bilbo said, “And Fili and Kili. They’re all up there!”

Ayla turned to Legolas, her eyes pleading with urgency. “Go. Help them!” she urged. Legolas nodded his head and signaled Tauriel to follow him. She turned back to the wizard. “Gandalf, we need to go.”

“Yes.” the wizard said, turning to face her and seeing the brave woman he knew. “Come, we must find Lord Thranduil.”

They moved through the cramped alleyways as what remained of the people rushed to escape the fighting. The sound of an elven horn guided them, elven soldiers appearing almost out of nowhere as they assembled to the call. Following them they found Thranduil, standing in the middle of a crossing with dead bodies of orcs piled around and his men lining up for their next orders. Ayla ran ahead of the wizard towards Thranduil, relieved to see he wasn’t hurt. The Elvenking’s face showed that he felt the same as he embraced Ayla tightly against him.

“My Lord!” Gandalf called, getting the Elvenking’s attention. “Dispatch this force to Ravenhill. The dwarves are about to be overrun. Thorin must be warned.”

“By all means, warn him.” Thranduil said, taking Ayla’s hand and leading his soldiers away. “I have spent enough elvish blood in defense of this accursed land. No more.”

“Thranduil?” Gandalf said, frustrated that the King would willingly turn his back.

“You can’t be serious.” Ayla said, pulling away from Thranduil as she looked up at him in disappointment. This was the attack on Erebor all over again. Thranduil took hold of Ayla’s upper arm and pulled her to his side forcefully.

“We are leaving.” he said sternly.

“No! These people will die!” Ayla argued, trying to pull her arm out of his grip. He only tightened his hold on her, yanking her closer to him as he glared down at her.

“Do not argue with me!” he hissed, “I will not spill any more of my people’s blood.”

She slapped him across the face, surprising the Elvenking as his hold on her loosened and she pulled her arm from his grip, backing away from him. Looking into his eyes she saw that he was still stunned from her striking him. She was stunned that she even did it herself as her palm stung from the amount of force she had used. But she wasn’t backing down. Not for what she believed was right. “Then leave.” she said, her voice firm and determined. 

Thranduil looked down, unable to meet her eyes as he was put to shame by her selflessness. Her willingness to risk her life for others. Even when the said other had tried to kill her less than a day ago. The look in her eyes was a resurgence of the same look she gave him years ago when he refused to help the dwarves from the dragon. It was the last look she gave him before disappearing.

He stepped towards her and took a chance to look into her eyes again. 

“Lead by example, Thranduil. Be the honorable King I know you to be.” Ayla said, touching his arm. “Please…I’m begging you.”

xxxxx

(Past)

Another soldier screamed in pain while Ayla tied off his upper thigh with a makeshift tourniquet by using a leather belt. She was in the middle of a battlefield just on the outskirts of Osgiliath. From what she had gathered it was a last ditch effort of what remained of Mordor’s forces as it had been just days after the defeat of Sauron. And Ayla had only been in Middle Earth for less than twenty-four hours. She tightened the tourniquet, getting another scream from the soldier.

“Shut up, you’ll live through this.” she said, already seeing the gushing of blood slowing down. She didn’t have much with her, her instruments were handy but out in an actually field they were useless. She pulled out a spool of thread and tied it to the end of a curved needle. It was a rather lucky coincidence that she woke up with a bag of medical supplies though her supplies were running dangerously low. “Try to hold still.”

Ayla had to pin his injured leg down with her knee as she looped the curved needle into his wound; her intention was to tie off the severed artery to prevent the man from bleeding to death. The soldier eventually stopped screaming as he passed out from the pain and Ayla managed to finish the job. It was a crude job, and he might end up losing the leg, but at least for now he will live. She stood up and went to the next injured soldier. She was a stranger to this world and she owed no loyalties to anyone, but she couldn’t ignore her calling. Plus she could just imagine her father, looking down at her with disappointment if she had simply walked away.

Her father had been a soldier and a field medic. He was given the honor of a purple heart for his services in the Gulf War. Ayla had once wanted to join the army and follow in her father’s footsteps but after his death that drive seemed meaningless if he wasn’t around to see it. At least now she would be able to honor his memory this way (sort of).

“You there! Woman!” a soldier called out, approaching Ayla while she was examining another injured man. “What are you doing out here?” he demanded.

“What does it look like?” Ayla quipped, taking off the armor on her patient’s left knee and using her thumbs she forced the kneecap back into place. The man yelped in pain but at least his knee was now fixed. She took his dagger and laid the flat side against the side of his knee and began to wrap it tightly with the soldier’s sword belt to hold it in place. “You’ll want to keep this leg straight for a few days; you more than likely tore a few tendons and ligaments.” Ayla stood up and faced the soldier questioning her. He wasn’t very tall for a man, as he was Ayla’s height. And he also didn’t come alone as three other soldiers had followed him.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“I’m a doctor.” Ayla answered.

“Nonsense! Women can’t be healers.”

“Oh, and sexist jackasses like you can be soldiers? The scandal!” she said sarcastically as she moved on to look for the next injured person.

He drew his sword and pointed it at Ayla. When he didn’t get the reaction he was seeking from Ayla he growled in anger. “You’ll pay for your insolence!” he lunged forward and Ayla stepped out of the way, grabbing his wrist and twisting his arm painfully around his back, forcing him to drop his sword.

The three soldiers all stood back in surprise by Ayla. “Now, are we gonna have a problem moving forward?” she asked, twisting his wrist hard and getting a cry of pain.

“Y-you filthy harl-AAH!”

Ayla had twisted his arm further, feeling the tendons and muscles under her hand reaching their limits. “What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“N-no…My Lady…for-forgive me!” she released him and he fell forward, clutching his arm and looking back at her with wide eyes and a snarl on his lips. 

“Fuck off.” she said, grabbing her bag and moving on to find other survivors. It was so disorienting to her. Was this a dream? Was she experiencing some Wizard of Oz scenario and she had to find a pair of ruby slippers to take her home? Maybe Oz was too much to hope for since she had seen the dead bodies in the field and figured it was more accurate to compare it to Dungeons and Dragons. She was in a nerd’s ultimate fantasy. But for Ayla, surrounded by death…this was a fucking nightmare.

She couldn’t recall what happened before waking up in this strange place. When she tried all she got was a massive headache and a feeling of vertigo.

xxxxx

(Present)

Thranduil had given in to Ayla, giving the order to his army to keep fighting while he accompanied Ayla to Ravenhill. Any orc that got in their way was immediately slain swiftly by his blade as they climbed the hill. Once they reached the summit, they were met with dead orcs and goblins everywhere. Ayla had gone ahead of Thranduil, passing through the narrow passages. The Elvenking was following close behind until his attention was diverted to something he was not expecting. He found his son, turning away towards him with a pained look in his eyes.

“I…cannot go back.” Legolas said quietly, not meeting his father’s gaze as he passed him.

“Where will you go?” Thranduil asked.

“I do not know.” Legolas said, stopping in his tracks and turning to face his father.

“Go north,” Thranduil said, feeling that in his heart it was time for his son to truly learn of the world. And what better way that to travel with someone that Legolas will have a close bond with? “Find the Dunedain. There’s a young ranger amongst them. You should meet him. His father, Arathron…he was a good man. His son might grow to be a great one.”

“What is his name?”

“He’s known in the wild as Strider. His true name you must discover for yourself.” The elf Prince turned away and began to leave when his father stopped him once more. “Legolas…your mother loved you. More than anyone. More than life.”

It took Legolas a moment before he realized that his father was not speaking of Ayla but of his birth mother. He turned halfway, his right hand over his heart and then extending it to his father before he turned away again and left. Thranduil also turned away, finding Tauriel on the cliff-side, mourning over a dwarf and seeing her pain for the loss of his life. Pain he understood all too well.

A pain that had healed thanks to Ayla.

xxxxx

Ayla reached the top and looked around as she panted to catch her breath. Her eyes frantically searching. When she finally spotted Thorin she gasped and a sob escaped her as she ran to where he laid with Bilbo sitting at his side. 

Bilbo saw her running up to them and quickly got to his feet. “Please—please do something!” he said frantically, not knowing what to do as he panicked. “He’s hurt badly.” Once she was at his side, she dropped heavily to her knees on the ice, ignoring the pain as she tearfully looked at his injuries and only cried harder when she saw the severity of his wounds.

The aftermath of war was as ugly as Ayla remembered, having been through so many over the centuries, the effects of it never got easier. Tears of pain, tears of mourning, tears of defeat. It hurt the same every time. It hurt even more when she was powerless to save the people she cared for, and this time was no exception as she wept over Thorin, his life draining away right before her eyes.

“Ayla…” he breathed, smiling weakly up at her. “I was certain that I would never see you again.” more hot tears fell from her eyes as she stroked the side of his face. “How I wish things had turned out differently. How I wish…to have treasured you more…my love.”

“Shh, don’t speak. Save your strength.” Ayla said, choking back a sob, still stroking his face.

“Can you forgive me, my love?” he asked, his voice becoming softer and harder to hear.

“Yes.” Ayla said, taking his hand in hers and kissing the back of his gloved knuckles. “Yes, I forgive you. I forgive you, Thorin.”

He blinked slowly up at her, his vision beginning to blur. He smiled softly at her. “Beloved…live on…be happy…tell him everyday how much you love him…have beautiful babies…watch them grow…and never regret the past…”

The light in his eyes faded and his final breath left his body. Ayla took in a deep inhale of breath before sobbing uncontrollably. She lowered her upper half down, planting a kiss to his lips and slowly rose up, staying at his side, holding his hand. Her mind cruelly conjuring up the past of when Thorin was first born and how he grew into a fine man. She sniffed, unable to stop the memories. She didn’t notice when Bilbo stood and walked away, too focused on her own grief as she stared down at Thorin, putting every last detail of his face to memory before she could let herself say goodbye.

Ayla sat upon the edge of the frozen river, staring off into space, completely numb to the cold. The remaining company of dwarves had gathered and had taken away their fallen king, carrying his body back to Erebor to pay their last respects. Ayla did not go with them. Her mind kept replaying his final words to her and it broke her heart. He still loved her and in death he wished her happiness.

“Ayla,” came Thranduil’s soft voice, but she didn’t turn to look. She felt numb and heartbroken, and she simply wanted to mourn in peace. “Ayla.” Thranduil came and knelt down beside her and wrapped his cape around her shoulders and raised a hand to hook under her chin, turning her head to the right to face him. Looking up into his eyes that showed his empathy, Ayla felt the sting of hot tears return as she squeezed her eyes shut and dropped her head to his chest plate. She felt his arms wrap completely around her, pulling her close and felt his lips press against the crown of her head. At last she felt the bitter cold deep in her bones as time felt like it had begun to move again. Time for her kept moving forward while Thorin’s had stopped forever.

xxxxx

In the aftermath of the war that had been won against the orcs, the new King Under the Mountain upheld the promise of giving what was due to the humans and elves. King Dane allowed Ayla and Thranduil to enter Erebor to pay their last respects to Thorin and his two nephews who fell in battle. Ayla stared at Thorin’s body, shedding more tears as she said goodbye to him for a final time. Thranduil laid Orcrist over Thorin’s body as a tribute of his final respects to the fallen King. 

She lost Thorin and her two godsons. 

Her thoughts went to Diz and how the news of her sons’ deaths will devastate her.

Before leaving Erebor Ayla was reappointed as the liaison ambassador between Mirkwood and Erebor and now also to the new city of Dale. The heirlooms of the elves had been returned as a sign of mending old grudges and also as an extension of good will to a better future between them. As Ayla and Thranduil headed towards the gates to leave Erebor, Balin called out to her as he approached. The couple stopped and looked back.

“My Lady, before you leave, I wanted to return this to you.” he said, holding out his hand to her with a bracelet in his palm. It was Thorin’s engagement gift he had made for her so many years ago. The chain had been repaired. “It was in Thorin’s pocket. I’m sure he had the intention of giving it back to you.”

Ayla reached out and picked up the accessory, clutching it tightly in her palm as she brought it up over her heart. The heart shaped charm had been converted as a frame for a single piece of a Lasgalen gem. An addition Thorin must have added after she had left him. She expected to start crying but somehow she felt hollow. She managed to smile down at Balin, even though her smile was not genuine.

“Thank you.” she said softly before turning away and leaving with Thranduil. The restored bracelet in her hand suddenly felt heavy.

xxxxx

The journey back to the Woodland Realm was quiet and the mood slightly heavy as the loss of elven lives counted well over a hundred. The injured doubling that. Ayla helped the other healers tend to the wounded, though Ayla’s role was more direct and hands-on as she reset bones and sutured lacerations while the elven healers used their magic to heal what Ayla could not. Ayla couldn’t sleep, her dreams consumed of the war, of all the people she couldn’t help. Of Thorin’s lifeless eyes looking up at her. Fili and Kili’s pale, lifeless faces. So she kept herself busy. She checked every elf, inspecting their wounds and checking their vitals, making sure their pulses weren’t weak or fluttering, their breathing wasn’t labored or coming in short bursts and that they weren’t running a fever.

Kwenthrith eventually had to force Ayla away and walk her back to her bedchamber, telling the woman that she was no good to anyone if she didn’t get a proper rest. Thranduil was there to receive Ayla, taking her into his charge while Kwenthrith returned to the infirmary. 

“You need to sleep.” Thranduil said, helping her undress.

“No, I’m fine. I need to make sure that everyone is recovering safely.” she protested, though even she had to admit that it was hard to sound convincing when even she could hear the exhaustion in her own voice.

“You’re no good to any of them if you do not stop to take care of yourself.” he said, holding her shoulders and seeing the shadows under her eyes from her lack of sleep. “I know you’re in pain. You mourn for them. And rightfully so, but the pain will pass and I will still be here by your side.”

She looked up at him, unable to hide her sorrow and stepped into his personal space, burying her face into his chest as she felt his arms encircle her in his warm embrace. He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back. He then guided her to bed, pulling the covers over her shoulders and watched her quickly succumb to sleep. He gently brushed her hair behind her ear, smoothing her soft dark hair with his hand. He watched her sleep, taking in her features. He had once thought her plain looking when he first saw her all those centuries ago. She was strange and she was always straight forward with her words, she then became interesting. Her origin a mystery, her long life matching the immortality of his kind, and then the greatest mystery…how she seems to cheat death.

She had been an irritant whenever he was around her, always challenging him, always boldly questioning his authority, his right as King. No one ever dared to talk back to him, argue with him. He would have banished her from the Realm if not for Legolas who loved her, viewing her as a motherly figure. He often found himself seeking her out, needing to know where she was at all times. Back then, wherever Legolas was she was close by and would smile brightly for him, her plain face lighting up and suddenly becoming strikingly beautiful, like the last bud to bloom in spring. And whenever she smiled he would see his son smile back, showing genuine happiness to the woman who healed his ailment with her own hands.

Whenever Ayla was gone, the Realm felt empty and grey. And for centuries he would hear stories of her travels, of her involvement of bettering the lives of others. At one point she had vanished for two hundred years and he had thought she had found a way back to her homeland, or perhaps death had finally taken her. But then she reappeared and had returned to his world, bringing color back. And when she finally came to him, she was different; she was the same woman but the air around her was older, wiser, experienced and untouched by time. She was once more interesting.

Thranduil traced his fingers lightly over Ayla’s sleeping face, tracing the delicate curve of her eyebrows, the slight dipping curve of the bridge of her nose, around the edges of her delicious lips and up along her elegant jawline to her ear. He never expected to find love again, especially not after losing his wife, and especially not with a human. Yet life continued to be a surprise when Ayla was involved. He couldn’t pinpoint when exactly he began to develop such warm feelings towards her, perhaps it started when his son began to laugh and smile happily again thanks to her healing hands; or perhaps it was when he saw her smile so brightly that nothing else could compare.

No jewel was more precious.

All the Elvenking knew was that it was gradual. He grew to respect her to the point that he valued her opinion and he wanted her to always be aware of him. Everything about her he wanted only for himself. Her smile, her laughter, her tears, her anger, her touch, her love; everything. And when he finally had it all, he felt complete. Whole. And selfishly he kept her to himself. Indulging in her attention. 

She became his own version of the King’s Jewel, and no other man could ever have her. And he will do whatever it takes to never again lose her. The idea of losing her again was a pain he did not want to ever experience again. And if possible, he wanted to spare her of further heartache and will continue to cherish every moment now that they had a future once more.

His mind drifted to the child they had lost, wondering what they would look like and how much of them both would be seen in them. He was certain that any child they would have together would look like her; they would have her dark hair and her warm brown eyes, and perhaps even their cheeks will dimple like Ayla’s whenever they smiled or laughed. Perhaps now that they had time, maybe a child will be in the near future. The halls in his Realm certainly would benefit with the sound of a child’s laughter.

Lift the darkness that had made itself comfortable in the woods.

Only time will tell if they will be blessed with the opportunity.

For once he had hope for their future together.

xxxxx

(Past)

Legolas let out a sharp hiss when Ayla pressed her thumbs into the palm of his right hand. He had spent hours every day, practicing his bowmanship to the point of making the muscles from his hands up his arms to his shoulders ache. Elven healing helped take away the discomfort but it would always return. He had gone to Ayla who had returned to the Woodland Realm after traveling back from the Misty Mountains. She had been gone for five years and Legolas was no longer the little boy she had left behind but a boy entering into his teen years. He had complained to her of his aches and pains from his long hours of practicing and Ayla offered an alternative method.

He squirmed in discomfort while Ayla dug her thumbs into the tender, blistered flesh and worked on the knots in his hands, fingers and wrists. After a minute it began to feel very good and the boy relaxed under her touch. She worked on each hand and massaged up each arm, loosening the knots in the muscles and taking away the tension that had built up. 

_“Naneth,_ how do you know so much?” Legolas asked while Ayla worked on the ball of his right shoulder. Ayla paused for a moment, not used to being called mother in Sindarin.

“Well, it takes years and a lot of studying.” Ayla replied, “You really need to take care of yourself. You’re still young but you should remember to properly stretch or else you’ll keep getting these cramps.”

“Father says your ways are unconventional and crude.”

“Compared to elven practice I suppose my methods are crude. There are injuries out there that can’t be healed with magic and chanting alone. Like when you broke your arm, the bone needed to be reset and elven magic couldn’t do that.”

“So then which way is better?”

“It depends on what the problem is.” Ayla finished her massage and Legolas freely leaned back against her chest. Ayla smiled and wrapped her arms around him in a gentle hug. “But you should know that everything has its limits and some things just can’t be fixed.”

“I’ve looked through Kwenthrith’s books, and a lot of the things that she recorded were really disgusting.”

Ayla let out a snort. “Like what?”

“How the body gets rid of waste and what happens to the flesh of wounds that cannot be cured.” he tilted his head back to look up at her. “Did you really cut off a man’s leg because it was diseased?”

“If I didn’t then he would have died.” Ayla said, finding it funny how all boys were the same, they were all fascinated by the grossest things. 

“Did you really cut a person open to take out a part of their insides to cure the side-sickness?”

“Side-sickness? Oh, you mean appendicitis. Yes, in fact that’s the most common surgery I perform in my travels.”

“What’s that? Appen…di…”

“Appendicitis, it’s when the appendix has a blockage and then becomes inflamed from the build-up of mucus and bacteria.” she side, placing a finger on his right lower abdomen, showing the boy where the appendix was located. “If left untreated it will then burst and the bacteria will poison the blood and that person will die.”

“How do you prevent it from happening?”

“Unfortunately it’s just one of those things that happens and needs to be removed surgically as soon as possible.”

“Wouldn’t that hurt them? To cut them open?”

“Yes, if the proper numbing agents weren’t used beforehand.”

“And how do you do that?”

“I thought you read Kwenthrith’s journals?”

Legolas picked at the edge of his shirt. “I just looked at the pictures; I didn’t read much since it was dry and dull. But will you tell me what you use?”

Ayla smiled, finding it cute that Legolas, despite being an elven prince with the finest tutors, was still just a typical boy. “I don’t know, maybe I should make you read through her documentations to find out for yourself instead of asking for the answers.” Ayla teased, “Anyways, it’s not important right now. What’s important is that those people lived.”

Legolas yawned as Ayla stroked his soft hair and he eventually dozed off with his head rolled to the side on her shoulder and his body reclined against her. Ayla didn’t disturb him, letting him sleep. Besides, it was an excuse to delay meeting up with the Elvenking, knowing he was expecting her and secretly enjoying irritating him with little things like not meeting him right away when he asks for her.

An hour went by and Legolas was still fast asleep against her, and Ayla didn’t mind. She enjoyed the quiet moments like this, giving her the time and space she needed to declutter her mind of dumb things that had no place in her head. She had never been one for meditating but ever since she came to Middle Earth, meditating actually helped with any anxiety or panic attacks she often had in the first few years. And being in such a beautiful place it was easy to empty her thoughts and even easier to get lost in a daydream. Another hour slipped by and the Elvenking made his appearance, coming upon the sight of his son sleeping soundly in Ayla’s arms.

He raised a questioning eyebrow at her and Ayla simply replied by putting a finger to her lips, telling him to let his son sleep. Thranduil quietly sat down on the vine covered bench, looking at the peaceful face of his young son, sleeping against the woman who had become a mother to him. 

“So, it appears my son has been here this whole time instead of with his tutors.” Thranduil said softly.

Ayla giggled softly. “Give the kid a break. He came to me complaining about his arms and hands feeling tight so I just loosened them up with a massage. He then fell asleep after that and I didn’t have the heart to wake him up.”

“Is that another healing trick of yours?” he asked casually.

“It’s called alternative medicine where I’m from. It’s actually very popular and if done right it’s very relaxing. Give me your hand and I’ll show you.” she said, holding her hand out to receive his.

He laid his hand down on hers and she turned it over with the palm facing up and began to knead her thumbs into the pads. His hand jerked a little from the twinge of pain from the applied pressure.

“How is this relaxing?” he asked, beginning to think she was hurting him on purpose.

“Don’t be a baby and give it time, you’ve obviously never had this done.” she said as she continued to move her thumbs in rhythmic circles into his palms. After a minute his hand relaxed and Thranduil was surprised by how good it felt. “See? A little pain at first but after you work through the tough parts your muscles begin to relax.”

“I can see why this is popular where you’re from.” he said.

“Yeah, it’s too bad that it’s so expensive.”

“Why is that?”

“Well it’s definitely a profitable industry and people are willing to pay to feel good and get rid of any pain they may be experiencing. And a lot of people are in pain because of their lifestyle.”

“Were you one of those people?”

“In my profession I’m always on my feet for hours, so indulging in a massage every now and then was beneficial.”

“Is it just the hands that are treated?”

Ayla looked up at him and gave him a saucy smirk. “No. It can be the whole body.” she said, her fingers moving up to his wrist and forearm, working on the knots in his corded muscles. His eyes met hers, a flash of heat rising within him as he imagined her hands elsewhere, kneading at his flesh.

“Perhaps at a later time.”

xxxxx

(Present)

When Ayla awoke it was dark with the hint of blue light from the moon outside, softly lighting the room. She was still tired, her lids heavy with sleep as she turned over onto her other side and saw Thranduil sitting at his writing desk, wearing his silk robe of a deep forest green that looked black in the dimly lit room. Only a single candle was lit on his desk and the quill in his hand moved with the strokes of his hand, the silvery feathers catching the candle light and reflecting it like gold. Watching him, Ayla couldn’t help but drink him in with her eyes. His profile was elegant, his long platinum hair hanging perfectly down his back, looked silvery white with the candle light casting a soft yellow glow, making him look heavenly. 

Thranduil set his quill back in the ink well before leaning forward to blow out the candle and then stood up. He rubbed the back of his neck and turned towards the bed, seeing Ayla was awake. He saw her smile at him and he returned the smile in kind. He slipped off his robe and draped it over the back of his chair, showing that he was shirtless and his silk pants hung loose at his hips. He walked over to the bed and lay beside her, sliding one arm under her while wrapping the other around her waist and pulled her close. Her sweet scent filled his nose; the smell was something akin to what he could only describe as warm sugar and spring.

He kissed her forehead and heard her sigh, her warm breath caressing over his neck as she snuggled closer. She kissed his throat and ran her hands up his torso and over the firm pectoral muscles of his smooth chest. He moved his hand to her face, tilting it up to kiss her, enticing her into a growing passion. Their hands moved over each other, working off their clothes until they were both naked under the sheets.

She pushed Thranduil to lie on his back as she moved to straddle his lap and pulled him up into a sitting position. His eyes shined almost as white as the stars in the silvery light, running up and down her body, taking in the curves of her breasts just moments before his hands slid over them, his fingers teasing lightly around her nipples.

His deep breathing rushed in an even rhythm through the dark, sharpening to a hiss as she slowly guided her body down onto his straining cock, feeling the delicious stretch and glide of him as he pushed deeper and deeper within. He always felt just at the verge of being too long when she was on top, inciting a mild bite of pain as she let her weight settle fully upon him, but it was only just enough to push the aching sweetness to a new level of intensity. He was still for a moment, his eyes closed as she clenched against him and savored the sensation of being fully joined, utterly filled. As she slowly started to move, sliding herself up and then back down, his hands left her hips and explored the expanses of her bare skin, pressing warmly into every hidden nook. Her face was pulled to his and his mouth clamped to hers, demanding entry as he breathed heavily through his nose, and she gratefully relented, opening completely, drinking in his mouth, his tongue, making love in her kiss. 

His long, silvery hair was soft between her fingers, the curve of his head solid and real under her probing palms, his jaw working slowly with each suckling kiss, and her whole body was pressed backward with the delving force of his mouth. She sighed in ecstasy, returning the push back toward him, lips grinding against teeth while their mouths met in a slow crush of growing urgency. She dug her fingers into the thick pads of flesh at his back, his shoulders, his waist, measuring the strength and softness of every muscled hill with the hungry force of her hands.

Her heart worked slightly faster than his as she let her body control the pace, the beating of their pulses just enough out of sync that together it sounded like a horse galloping, traveling some windy path toward some blissful nirvana. But she was not conscious of any need for an orgasm; needing not a physical release, but a release from the physical; to move into and beyond the body and feel his soul and to give him hers, to be completely absorbed into each other.

But the physical responded despite her intentions, racking her nerves with powerful, resonating shudders that stung at the surface of her skin, each cell in her body was full to bursting with sensation as her heart was with love, as her inner recesses were with his engorged flesh, as her mouth was full with his. She heard whimpers as slowly their pace increased, following the primal needs of their body to finish what they'd started, and in the occasional clearing of the haze in her mind, she came to feel sore streaks running down her back and burning down to her buttocks. It was the lingering remnants of his touch as he bruised across her, digging into her flesh with the same ardency as she had his, leaving behind rebounding muscles trying to unbind themselves in the aftermath of his strength.

His whimpers became low, throaty growls as his mouth finally pulled away from hers and tore down her neck, suckling and biting. He was holding her so tightly that she couldn't expand her chest enough to breathe, but it didn't matter. She didn't need air when she had him, she had within her grasp the object of her urgent, unbearable need, the man who her love and her body demanded to the point of shattering, holding her hostage every moment they were apart. And now he was here, and everything had changed, every single damned thing in the world had changed and twisted and became almost unrecognizable, all of it except for the fact that he loved her, too. For some unknowable reason, his love had endured the time and the distance and the heartbreak of her absence, and if his arms crushed every last bone in her body and she never took a breath again, the only thing that would still matter was the fact that he loved her.

Somewhere along the way, they fell back onto the bed. Her body had merged with his, with the sky, the moon, and the air, ringing loud against the walls of the room with the sharp trill of sex, harmonizing with the music of his cries, his grunts, his voice whispering, low and sultry, _I love you. I love you. Stay with me forever._

"Yes," she gasped as they emptied into each other, "Yes, I am yours… _eternally yours."_

xxxxx

(Years Later)

Thranduil was reclined back on the chaise lounge with Ayla who was resting against him, one leg on each side of her while they relaxed together. He had one hand holding one of hers, their fingers lacing and twining and caressing. His other hand was on Ayla’s belly, stroking the small bump gently. They were living in relative peace within the Woodland Realm and Thranduil was truly happy to be living and ruling with his Queen. He kissed her delicate fingers and then the top of her head. 

Ayla took his hand that she held and brought it down to massage his palm, her fingers expertly working on the knots from his long hours of writing missives and letters. He had never known such pleasures until Ayla came along and showed him, taking away the tension he had never realized was there until her massages. He enjoyed them greatly, the first time was years ago when Legolas was still very young and she had simply taken his hand and began to knead the flesh in his palm. That must have been around the time he began to desire her touch more, melting away the hidden aches and pains he had grown accustomed to ignoring.

Her skillful hands kneaded his muscles like dough. Her hands were methodical as they worked out the tight knots, but they were also sensual with the way they glided over his skin. They were both in a certain stage of undress; he was in only his silk pants while Ayla wore one of Thranduil’s shirts. It was yet another quiet evening, with just the two of them in their own little world. 

This was true bliss.

xxxxx

(Present)

Bolting up in bed, Ayla took in deep breaths as she tried to keep herself from hyperventilating. It was that dream again where she was on her way to work after getting her morning coffee and while crossing the street she was suddenly blinded by bright lights and the sound of a truck horn blaring. She couldn’t recall that ever happening to her but for some reason she also couldn’t deny that it may have. The only question was when did that happen? She needed to figure out what these dreams are or else she’ll never get a good night’s sleep again.

“What’s wrong?” came Thranduil’s sleepy voice.

Ayla took in a calming breath and let it out slowly before laying back down into his arms. “Nothing, just a bad dream.”

“This is the seventh time you’ve woken in the middle of the night. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I think it’s just stress.” she said, and she felt his lips lightly brush her forehead. While she listened to his breathing slowing down as he fell back asleep, her mind was on the recurring dreams she’s been having for the past week.

Not only did she dream about getting hit by a truck but she also dreamt of being in a white room and seeing a face but unable to make out the features. Strangely enough in that dream she could have sworn she could smell cedar and spice, the very smell that Thranduil had, but she attributed that to sleeping next to him. She tried remembering every detail of those dreams but couldn’t seem to recall anything beyond what her mind provided. It was frustrating her, she felt like she was just on the edge of seeing it all clearly, especially the face in the white room. But then again, maybe it was stress. After all…Middle Earth was on the verge of war and Thranduil was leaving to take his army down to Dul Goldor and join forces with the elves of Lothlorien.

She didn’t look forward to seeing Thranduil leave for war, her fear for his safety another contributing factor to her restless nights.

xxxxx

(One year earlier)

Ayla and Thranduil had travelled to Rivendell to Elrond’s Summoned Council. They had arrived a week before anyone else showed up, which gave the couple time to rest up from their journey, especially Ayla who had been nothing but miserable during the journey. Being twenty-four weeks pregnant meant she was reaching that stage where getting comfortable and staying comfortable was becoming a challenge. It was just a lucky thing that a soft mattress and lying with a whole bunch of pillows around her (under her head, between her knees, against her back) and an open window was the perfect recipe for pregnancy comfort. Thranduil let her rest, knowing she needed it as she carried precious cargo.

When Arwen returned to Rivendell with a wounded hobbit, Elrond had purged out the evil but could not heal the wound completely. Ayla had managed to mend the wound, scraping out the dead tissue before suturing the wound closed. And then of course surprising her son, Aragorn with her pregnancy.

Walking along the path in the gardens with Aragorn, Ayla was catching up with her son on his adventures. “You’ve raised two sons and now you’ll be raising a third child.” Aragorn said smiling at her and looking down at her round belly. “I had not expected this, however, so forgive my earlier shock.”

“Maybe if you visited your mother more often then some things wouldn’t come as a shock.” Ayla said with a hint of her motherly scolding while rubbing her stomach. Geez it itched like crazy, her skin stretching out daily as the baby grew.

“You look happy.”

She looked up at Aragorn and gave him a smile. “I am.” she hooked her arm with his. “I’m glad you and Legolas are getting along. I was surprised to learn that he found you with the other Dunedain and that you gave him your real name.”

“Well, imagine my surprise when we found out that we were both raised by the same woman.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t start off with who raised you. How did you two figure it out?”

“The song you sang to me when I was a child, he heard me humming it one evening and that’s how we figured it out.”

Ayla laughed, “Of all the things.”

“So, how much longer until the baby is born?” 

“Let’s see…its autumn now, so this winter.”

“You always did like the snowy season.” Aragorn said, “So what do you hope for? Another boy? Or perhaps try your hand at raising a girl?”

Ayla playfully bumped her shoulder against his. “Girls are a whole breed of their own, not as easy as boys.”

“How so?”

“When boys get in trouble they’re not very good about covering their tracks, whereas girls can get caught in the act and be forgiven by just smiling sweetly at you.”

Aragorn laughed, “And how many times can that trick work?”

“As many times as we need it to.” Ayla said, giving him a mischievous smile. “You’ll learn someday when you have kids of your own.”

“I know Lord Elrond has asked you to sit in on the council, but will you be all right? You haven’t been part of any council in a long time, especially with men from Gondor.”

“I understand your concern, but don’t worry; I have already turned down his invitation to sit in your boys’ club.”

“You say that now but he always seems to know how to get you involved when he needs to.”

“Of course he does. I hope a certain wizard hasn’t been filling your head with ideas.”

“What do you mean?”

“Did Gandalf tell you to wait in Bree for those hobbits?”

“How did you guess?”

“I’m your mother, plus Legolas told me when he returned home for a brief period.”

“That elf ratted me out, did he?”

“Siblings are the worst, aren’t they?” Ayla teased, running her hand over the round curve of her stomach again. As happy as she was to be pregnant and feeling the baby moving inside her, deep down she was afraid of the worst happening again. She was afraid of reliving that personal hell she had suffered in her last marriage. And she knew that Thranduil also worried, always making sure that a pair of guards were nearby wherever she went. “Whatever it is that Gandalf has up his sleeve, I just want you to be careful. Wizards always seem to have ulterior motives and Gandalf has a habit of sticking his nose in places it doesn’t belong.”

“Speaking from personal experience?”

Ayla smiled up at him, “A story for another time, I promise.” 

_“Naneth,_ there you are!” Legolas said after coming around a corner and approaching the pair. “I see that Aragorn is to blame for you being on your feet.”

“I wanted to take a walk and your brother offered to walk with me.” Ayla said, taking Legolas’ arm and walking with both her boys on either side of her. “Now you can join us and I can show off to everyone my handsome boys.”

Legolas let out a soft chuckle, walking alongside his mother and brother. Indulging her whims such as going on strolls when she should be resting. He smiled at his human brother over their mother’s head, knowing how rare it was for all of them to be in one place at the same time. They walked through the open halls of Rivendell, the conversation mostly about the baby and what gender it could be. Both Aragorn and Legolas were in agreement that Ayla will have a girl since she had already suffered her punishment twice by raising them and then went on to which names their future sister should have.

“Her name should be Leliana.” Aragorn said.

“A common name that many bar maids have.” Legolas said, dismissing the name. “It should be Meira.”

“A fine name for a fine mare in any stable, but we are picking a name for a princess.” Aragorn retorted.

Ayla let out a laugh, “Of all the things to argue about.”

“Did you already pick a name mother?” Aragorn asked.

“No, Thranduil said we should wait until the baby is born before agonizing over a name.” Ayla said, though secretly she had already picked out the names. They were names she had chosen years ago when she was a little girl. “And I expect you both to be there when your sibling is born.”

“We promise, _Naneth,_ we will both be present.” Legolas said.

A servant approached them, informing them that they were expected for dinner with Elrond. With her escorts, Ayla walked into the great hall where a long table stood with a spread that made the baby inside her squirm with excitement. She released her sons’ arms as she walked ahead of them to be received by their host who smiled fondly at her. Her husband stood beside Elrond, looking as handsome as always.

“Lady Ayla, you are looking more radiant than ever as you carry a new life.” Elrond said.

“Thank you, Lord Elrond.” Ayla said as Thranduil came to stand beside her, placing his hand at the small of her back.

“Come, let us feast and celebrate in good health.” Elrond said, turning to the table to take his seat at the head. Thranduil sat to Elrond’s left and Ayla right beside him while across from them sat Gandalf. Aragorn and Legolas were seated across from Ayla next to the wizard. The table was filled with other guests from across all of Middle Earth; humans and dwarves and elves, even hobbits. It was a strange gathering but Ayla didn’t think to question it.

xxxxx

Later that evening Thranduil helped Ayla into bed, having become quite the mother hen when it came to his wife and their unborn child. It had become a habit of his now, making sure Ayla was comfortable before laying beside her and kissing her belly. He was already in love with their child and was eager for them to be born. He felt Ayla’s fingers stroking his hair before he raised his face up to look at her. He could already envision their child. They will have Ayla’s dark hair and eyes and her beautiful lips, while having Thranduil’s bearings. Their child will be beautiful, that he had no doubt in. Just a few more months and their child will be born.

He hoped for a daughter.

A princess to spoil.

xxxxx

Sitting beside Thranduil at the Council Meeting where their seats were situated to the right of Elrond’s seat, it was clear that Elrond had persuaded her to sit in on the meeting. The men openly stared when Ayla walked by while the elves and dwarves, Aragorn and Gandalf all bowed their heads to her and the show of respect only raised questioning looks from the humans. Their looks were then turned to surprise when Elrond motioned for her to sit right beside him and Thranduil took the seat on her other side. It would have been funny to her under other circumstances but Ayla strangely felt wary to be present. In fact, she didn’t want to be a part of the meeting at all but Elrond had convinced her otherwise saying her presence would help keep the peace (though Ayla highly doubted it). What didn’t help was that earlier that morning Gandalf had persisted she be present and it was the worst thing ever when both the wizard and Elrond teamed up against her.

She couldn’t use the pregnancy card to get out of it.

It also didn’t help that they were all sitting in stone chairs with no cushions, making her back ache like crazy. At twenty-four weeks (or at least she thinks she was at twenty-four weeks), her stomach was already showing and the baby had just started to move and was having a good ol’ time pressing into her lower back. _That fuckin’ wizard and this pointy-eared bastard owe me big time for sitting on the world’s most uncomfortable chair. she thought bitterly. Damn, can’t this kid ever sit still long enough for me to attempt getting comfortable? Come on Junior, give mommy a break!_

When the ring was presented and placed on the dais in the center of their circle, Ayla felt a strange twist in her stomach, almost like the baby was reacting to the ring as she felt it squirm inside her. She placed a hand on her stomach, rubbing it back and forth over the rounded curve while she felt Thranduil’s hand gently squeeze hers in a show that he will protect her and the baby. And as comforting as that thought was, it didn’t take away the worrying thought that whatever evil was coming off the ring might be doing something to her baby. If it was not for Thranduil, she would have long since walked out on the meeting in favor of putting her feet up. She leaned closer to Thranduil and spoke in a low voice, “I need to leave.”

Before Thranduil could respond an argument broke out as men, dwarves and elves argued over the fate of what to do with the ring. The negativity was draining her and making her stomach cramp, and suddenly a shadow fell over the council and the dark tongue echoed in the darkness around them. She squeezed Thranduil’s hand as she felt a tightness seize her stomach, making her worried of a premature contraction. As the arguing died out under the booming voice of Gandalf who bellowed a spell to quiet the voice, Ayla felt the tightness in her stomach ease up and her grip on Thranduil’s fingers loosened up. She let out a slow breath and looked to Aragorn and Legolas who had glanced concerned looks to her.

The meeting went on with more arguing until a small hobbit named Frodo Baggins boldly volunteered to take the ring to Mordor. Along with the hobbit did Aragorn and Legolas volunteer (much to Ayla’s chagrin), and then a dwarf named Gimli. From behind the bushes came out three more hobbits, joining in the ragtag team and then a man from Gondor named Boremer. And of course leading them all was Gandalf.

Elrond then christened them “The Fellowship of the Ring.”

_All this fuss over a piece of jewelry._ Ayla thought tiredly.

xxxxx

Kwenthrith felt over Ayla’s belly, pushing firmly in specific areas where Ayla had taught her. Ever since the meeting the baby had been squirming around to the point of making her sick.

“I don’t feel anything abnormal.” Kwenthrith said, “But it may be safest for you to stay on bed rest from now on.”

Not in much of a mood to argue Ayla just nodded her head, though they both knew it was only going to be a temporary agreement. She sat up, readjusting the pillows behind her. Bed rest was just one of those orders she normally never followed through with. Kwenthrith stayed with her until Legolas entered the room and she took her leave to give them privacy. Sitting beside her on the bed, he placed a hand on her stomach with a soft smile.

“Did you really have to volunteer?” Ayla asked with a slight pout. Aragorn she understood volunteering for this mad adventure, he seemed to be addicted in getting into trouble, but not her Legolas. She at least expected her elven prince to stay out of it.

“And let my little brother have all the fun?” Legolas japed, giving her his most dashing smile. “Do not worry about me, _Naneth,_ I will return safely once this is all over. I have much to live for, the first being to return home to meet this little one.” he said. Ayla smiled back, putting her hand over his.

“We’ll be waiting.”

After Legolas left Aragorn then came in a few minutes later, sitting with her and taking her hand in his.

“I may not be able to send you letters for some time.” he said.

“Its fine, it’ll spare me from trying to read through your chicken scratch writing.” 

Aragorn let out a snort, “I’m glad to see you again before I leave on this journey. And I’m glad to see you so happy.”

“Are you trying to tell me that I was just miserable before?”

“No, I think you did well to hide your heartache from me as a child. I had always thought it was for my father but now I know the truth, and it comforts me knowing that for once someone is looking after you.”

“Speaking of looking after, try not to overdo yourself, it’s not a contest of who’s the better warrior.”

“I promise to behave.” Ayla moved his hand onto the left side of her stomach, pressing his palm against it so that he could feel the slight movement. A smile broke out across his face. “Already so active.”

“Yup, and I can already imagine getting tired chasing them around. Much like how I had to chase you around the minute you started walking.”

He chuckled and leaned forward, kissing Ayla on the cheek. “Maybe this time you will have a chance to raise a girl.”

“Haven’t given much thought about that. So far I’ve only raised boys who had a knack in getting into all sorts of trouble.” Ayla said with a smile.

xxxxx

Thranduil returned late in the night after a private meeting with Elrond and Gandalf, and expected to see Ayla asleep but in fact found her standing at the open window with her hands cradling her belly. With the soft light of the moon casting down on her she was a vision to behold. She was beautiful, more so now than before, admiring how well she carried motherhood. He approached her quietly, coming to stand close behind her and encircling her in his arms, placing one hand on her round belly while the other on her shoulder. He kissed the top of her head and breathed in her sweet scent.

“I thought Kwenthrith had ordered you to bed rest.” he said softly.

“Mmm, I’m not very good at following orders.” she replied, making him smile.

He let out a soft chuckle. “No, you most certainly are not.”

“How did the meeting go?” she asked.

“There is no need to bother yourself with something so trivial. Gandalf has once again drabbled on about enemies that have yet to emerge from the shadows. It is a topic I do not wish to dwell on when there is something more important than a wizard’s foreboding words.” he said, moving his hand gently over Ayla’s belly. 

“He hasn’t been wrong yet.”

“Perhaps, but you and our child are far more important to me right now.”

Ayla groaned softly, taking Thranduil’s hand and moving it down to the underside of her belly where he could distinctly feel a kick. “The baby has been restless since the council meeting.”

“Have you been in pain?”

She let out a sigh, “A little but it’s just been really uncomfortable. I did think for a moment that I might go into premature labor.”

“Then perhaps you should take Kwentrith’s advice and rest, maybe then the baby will settle down.” he said, gently guiding Ayla back to the bed and helping her get comfortable and placing the pillows in places to help her be comfortable.

“I’m worried for them. What if they fail? Then what?”

_“Nin mel,_ you shouldn’t allow these doubts to weigh on your mind. They will succeed.” he said, sitting on the bed and rubbing her belly gently. “Ayla…what else is troubling you? I know Legolas and Aragorn leaving on this journey is not your biggest concern. Tell me.”

“I’ve been here for what—two thousand years? And not once have I ever felt something effect me so much until that hobbit presented the ring. I don’t know how else to describe it but I think the baby felt it, too.”

“And that was why you wanted to leave in the middle of the meeting.” he said, beginning to understand her concerns. 

“Now I feel like something else is about to happen, but I just don’t know what.”

Thranduil disrobed and moved to spoon her from behind on the bed, kneading his knuckles in her back and getting a groan from Ayla. He knew how she complained about her back and knew where she needed him to massage. He would do what was necessary to keep his beloved and their unborn child comfortable and happy.

xxxxx

(Present)

The Elvenking stood still like a statue, his eyes glued to a vision reflecting from a puddle at his feet. It was perplexing and yet also frightening of what he was seeing. It was an image of Ayla, asleep in a white room and beside her bedside was himself, only he looked different. From the short haircut to the strange clothes, it was surreal to see such an image but what did it mean? Was he seeing a glimpse of the future? If so, then why would he be sitting next to Ayla while she was sleeping? 

A drop of rain disturbed the placid surface of the puddle, erasing the image as more drops fell from the sky as it began to rain.

xxxxx

(Past)

Thranduil rushed into the infirmary after disposing of the orcs that had ambushed their caravan back from Rivendell just at the borders of Mirkwood. During the attack Ayla had been hurt before she was rescued by Arlen who killed the orc and took her back through the woods on horseback on Thranduil’s orders. Every last orc in the ambush had been killed, he personally ordering to have their heads cut off before rushing back on a spare horse. He quickly ran to the private suite, passing by an elf maiden carrying an armload of bloodied sheets. He approached the door and immediately froze upon the horror of what he saw. Sitting up in the bed, pale and shaking, was Ayla. His silver eyes fell to between her legs where blood had stained the sheets and he immediately knew as an icy sense of despair filled his heart. With heavy steps he walked over to Ayla, strands of her dark hair clinging to her face and neck from the cold sweat that layered her pallid skin. And when their eyes met, his heart shattered at their shared loss as he immediately lowered himself down to her and gathered her up into his arms.

He heard her take in a sharp intake of breath that was quickly followed by her sobs as she turned her face into his chest. He felt her pain in his heart, unable to find the words to console her. The only comfort he could offer her was simply staying at her side. To lose a child…especially a child that was just weeks away from being born…the pain was indescribable. If he had to compare it to any other pain he would compare it to feeling almost similar to when he lost his first love. _Almost_ similar. Losing his first wife had been heartbreaking, and he coped for the sake of his son by burying her memory and turning his heart to ice. But this time it was the opposite; he still had his love but they lost their child.

His heart was more than broken, his soul had been stained by this loss and yet what he felt was obviously nothing compared to Ayla’s pain. She had carried their child, felt the life growing inside her. Now there was nothing. He held Ayla tightly in his arms while he watched Kwenthrith take away a small bundle wrapped in a stained cloth, fully knowing what lied within. The world around him faded away as he listened to his love’s pained sobs. 

They later buried their child, planting a sapling over the grave.

“I’ve lost two babies at nearly full term, one was killed by orcs, and I miscarried three times.” Ayla said, sitting in front of the grave with Thranduil. “I’ve lost six— _six_ —and two of them were yours.”

Thranduil knew about Ayla’s previous miscarriages with her first husband, he knew of three but then… “Was one of them Oakenshield’s?” he asked, his voice low.

Ayla was quiet for a long before she replied. “Yes…and I’m sure it wouldn’t have lived anyways, even if the circumstances at the time were different. It’s become painfully clear to me that I can never have a baby. My womb is cursed.”

Thranduil wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close into his side as she cried softly. 

“You are not cursed. It was never your fault.” he said.

“But what if it is?”

xxxxx

(Present)

There was a thunder storm that day, blocking out the sun as rain fell heavily from the dark sky with the occasional crackle of lightning flashing across the sky. It had been less than twenty-four hours since Dul Goldor fell at the final battle. The destruction of the One Ring had been felt across the land. The storm seemed appropriate, the rain cleansing the earth of the evil that had once poisoned it. And though it should be a time for rejoicing Ayla felt like something was nagging her at the back of her mind. Her dreams leading up to this point had been nothing but the same recurring dreams. The truck and the unfocused face in the white room. It bothered her to the point that she was getting frequent migraines and lapses in her memory. So far she was able to keep it to herself with no one noticing, but this couldn’t go on forever. Just this morning she swore she saw in the mirror of an image of herself laying in a hospital bed, hooked up to monitors, IV drips, and a ventilator before the image vanished as soon as she blinked.

A part of her began to wonder if the dreams weren’t dreams but flashes of memory that must be seeping into her subconscious. And the image of her in a hospital bed…was she hit by the truck in her dreams and this whole time she had actually been dreaming this world? The people? Everything? It made her stomach clench in anxiety. It would explain a lot, if this really was a dream it would explain why she can’t die or never age or…have a baby…because none of this is real. It made her heart hurt. Of course this wasn’t real. Why would it be? It’s just typical for her, just as things fall into place and she finally feels happy with her life it all gets shit on by reality. 

This wasn’t real…

It was all just a very realistic dream.

Should she say something to Thranduil? No, it won’t make a difference; he’ll just say what she wants to hear because it’s a dream. Maybe these headaches and “dreams” are messages from her subconscious that it’s time to wake up. But she didn’t want to.

_“Nin mel,”_ she heard Thranduil call softly, approaching her still in full armor. It was obvious that he just returned from the war, and he must have ridden hard to return because he was soaking wet.

Seeing him she suddenly didn’t care if this was a dream or not because her feelings for him were real. That was the truth. Ayla ran to him with open arms, her body colliding into him, her arms wrapping around his neck in a tight embrace. His wet armor and cape soaking through her robes, making her feel the cold but also the warmth at the same time. Their lips found each other, meshing in a desperate passion. Just needing to feel each other. His cold lips quickly warmed up against hers before parting. He removed his gloves and dropped them to the floor as he held her head between his hands, looking at her, gazing into her brown eyes. 

“I love you with all my heart.”

xxxxx

Ayla gasped as she bolted upright in bed, her heart racing in her chest. Thranduil woke up from his sleep, sitting up and putting a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a shaky voice, wiping cold sweat from her forehead.

“This cannot go on, Ayla. You have to tell me what is haunting your dreams.” Thranduil said.

Ayla hesitated as she pulled the sheets up over her chest as she turned her body to look at him. She bit her bottom lip, still debating in her head if she should just go ahead with the truth. Looking into his silvery eyes, she saw the concern he had for her and gave in. She told him about her dreams and how she suspected that her dreams were the reality while their current moment was the dream. Thranduil pulled her into his arms, her dreams sounded familiar, especially the one about her being in a white room.

“This reminds me of a famous allegory; ‘I once dreamt of a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was myself. Soon I awaked, and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man.’”

“So then you are wondering if you are dreaming of being a butterfly or that you are the butterfly dreaming about you?”

“Makes no sense, I know.”

“Ayla, you just might be right.” Thranduil said, brushing a lock of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. “I saw a vision right after the fall of Dol Guldor, it was of you sleeping in bed inside a white room and that I was sitting beside you as if waiting for you to wake up.”

“What if I don’t want to wake up?”

Thranduil closed his eyes, feeling his chest ache. “I don’t think you have a choice. If it’s all true and your real self is waking up somewhere, then I am also there, waiting for you to return to me.”

Tears stung her eyes. “But what if you aren’t there?”

“Your dream and the vision I saw cannot be coincidence. It just means that wherever you are I will find you.” Thranduil said, stroking her hair. _“I will find you, nin mel.”_

Ayla felt a deep, painful throb in her head and for a split second she saw a flash of white. There was a dreadful, sinking sensation in her heart that made her regret voicing her suspicions. It was no longer a suspicion as it was obvious now with the headaches and dreams. She was the butterfly being dreamt of while her real body was waking up. She looked up at Thranduil, wanting to remember every detail of his face.

Another pulse of pain in her head, making it hard to focus her eyes. She felt his hands smooth away her hair from her face and then his lips on hers.

“I promise you, I _will_ find you.”

xxxxx

Ayla’s eyes fluttered open, blinded by the fluorescent light in the room as her senses slowly returned to her. The light hissing sound from the oxygen as it filtered up her nose through the plastic canula and the beeping from the monitors. She turned her head, trying to escape the light and felt the skin on her temples pulling tight against the adhesive of the monitor wires. She peeled them off, wincing at the slight pain as it pulled on her hair. Once her eyes adjusted she blinked and slowly took in her environment.

She was back…

She was back in Seattle.

Her beautiful dream was over.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayla wakes up from her coma and tries to resume her life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you readers for your patience

Ayla felt lost and confused, her mind scrambling to catch up. What happened? Where was she? Where was…she took in her surroundings, slowly moving her head. Her neck was incredibly stiff and her head was throbbing. She noticed that she was alone.

Had she been alone this whole time?

Where was the face she saw in her dreams? 

Was that even real? 

Had it all just a dream? 

Tears stung her eyes as her heart began to sink as she realized that he wasn’t here. He might never come. He might not be real. She slowly sat up, her muscles in her back sore and her ribs were on fire like they were broken. She gave up trying to move as she looked around her room. It was definitely one of the suites reserved for patients willing to pay extra (which she was not willing, must be Pamela’s doing), and she recalled someone sitting at her side as the chair was still placed next to her bed. She reached over, wincing in pain at the reach as she touched the seat. It was still slightly warm, so someone had just been there before she woke up.

The image of the man flashed to the forefront of her mind. Was it Thranduil? Did he somehow make it over from Middle Earth, too? Was it too much to hope for that everything was real and not a dream?

Why was she in the hospital in the first place? What the hell happened? Ayla took a moment to feel her body out, she took notes that her back and ribs were in pain, her right wrist was in a brace (not a cast, thank goodness!), and her legs were still attached to her body and she can wiggle her toes. She laid back, staring up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything. She couldn’t figure out what was real and what was her imagination. So far her current state felt real but the other place felt very real, too. She physically felt everything in the other place. Hunger, pain, desire. Everything!

But now she wasn’t sure. She could only know if it was real if that mystery man came back. Will he come back? Was she just putting too much expectation that it was Thranduil who, against all odds, found a way to Seattle? Maybe it was too much to ask for but still! She deserved some kind of an explanation as to how she ended up in the hospital feeling like a truck just hit her. A truck…an image of a truck coming at her flashed to the forefront of her mind. That image was then replaced by his face, the desperation in his eyes as if willing her to stay. Ayla couldn’t hold it back as a sob bubbled up her throat and hot tears sprung from her eyes. She covered her mouth with a hand, feeling her heart breaking under the weight of reality.

She wanted to go back.

Another week in the hospital for monitoring and then Ayla was free to go home. It had been nothing less than a miracle that after being hit head on by a truck on an icy hill in Seattle; Ayla not only survived but sustained no serious injuries aside from a few broken ribs, a fractured ulna, a concussion and many bruises. Pamela had made sure to be the one overseeing her care, despite the fact that her specialty was oncology, but she was also the Resident Director so no one bothered to question her motives of playing favorites. How she managed to get Ayla into the private suite was beyond her, but she wasn’t going to complain until she saw her medical bill.

Once discharged Ayla was put on medical leave until she was fully recovered and given a clean bill of health. She had learned shortly after waking up that she had been in a coma for nearly two weeks, shocking Ayla and making her rethink that perhaps that was the cause of her very lucid dreams and the very thought depressed her. Pamela hooked her up with the good pain medications but instead of overdoing it Ayla didn’t touch any of it, just letting it sit in her bathroom medicine cabinet and just stuck with plain Tylenol. Even the thought of drinking alcohol wasn’t of any interest to her. She was just…not herself. 

A part of her wished the truck had killed her.

One night she had stood in her bathroom, staring at the bottle of painkillers, contemplating on overdosing with a bottle of Jack Daniels that was sitting in her kitchen cabinet. Yet she hesitated. Some part of her was hoping.

Only three weeks since waking up from her coma and Ayla remained at home, feeling listless and depressed. Apparently it had all been a dream her mind conjured up during her comatose state. A dream that had felt so real. Who knew she had such a vivid and colorful imagination deep within her subconscious. It was like she was Dorothy who awoke from her dream of Oz, but instead of being able to compare the people in her life to the characters in her dream, Ayla seemed to have imagined people who never existed in her life. But she still had held out hope. While she was still in the hospital she waited for him, expecting to see him whenever the door opened, only to be disappointed when it was someone else.

It was time to move on.

She was back home in Seattle. Back where she belonged. Back to her old life of mortality, work, dodging phone calls from her mother, having lunch with Pamela, and everything else that had been lacking in that other world.

Yet…she found herself wishing to return, because what her reality lacked were the people she had imagined and grown fond of. Especially a certain annoying king. She felt so pathetic to be depressed over something so stupid. And staying at home on medical leave was driving her insane with boredom. The only time she left her apartment was to go to her physical therapy sessions, she didn’t bother to go out and buy groceries as she simply ordered delivery to her door. Her inbox had been cleared out of all the junk that had been filling up and she had scrolled through all the missed messages that had been left by her mother, her half-siblings, and even her ex-husband. Greg must have gotten a new phone and sent her the message since she had blocked his old number.

She didn’t bother listening to his message, deleting it the moment she recognized his voice and then proceeding to block his new number.

When she was still in the hospital her mother of all people had come to visit. It had been an uncomfortable visit since Ayla had nothing to say to the woman who apparently came to only ask if she was still going to Charlotte’s wedding.

_“I almost died and all you can think about is if I’ll still make an appearance to her wedding? The wedding where she’s marrying my ex-husband?”_ Ayla had asked, finding the question distasteful.

_“I’m only asking because it’s coming up. We weren’t expecting you to wake up at all.”_ her mother had said.

Ayla let out a hollow laugh before grimacing at the pain in her ribs. _“I just don’t understand why you insist on making my life miserable.”_

_“I beg your pardon?”_ her mother asked, sounding insulted.

_“What did I ever do to make you hate me so much?”_ Ayla asked, looking at her mother. The older woman stared back at her, her blonde hair freshly colored, her makeup heavy to hide her age, and her clothes were immaculate without a wrinkle.

_“I don’t hate you, Ayla. I never hated you. I only wanted the best for you but you were too willful and impulsive, you made it hard for me to love you. I thought it was because your father stole all of your affection from me but that had nothing to do with it. It was because you are just like your father and nothing like me that I grew to resent you.”_

_“Then why did you insist that you raise me and not dad? Why put me through all that shit growing up?”_

_“I don’t know why, I just felt that if your father wasn’t around then maybe you and I would begin to bond but that never happened. Then I had the twins and all my attention was on them and before I knew it you had grown up and become a stranger to me. I don’t know how to fix our relationship.”_

Ayla stared at the woman, keeping her face neutral. She recalled the night she had lost the baby and was alone in the hospital, calling her mother because she didn’t know who else to call and the cruel words that had been spoken to her. _“Then don’t fix it.”_

Her mother looked startled by the harshness of Ayla’s tone. _“I’ve come to extend an olive branch, Ayla.”_

_“No, you came to check if I was awake from my coma and the first thing that came out of your mouth was if I planned on going to that whore’s wedding. Well don’t worry, I’m not going. In fact, I’m never going to any more of your family events from here on out because I never want to see you and those horrible people ever again.”_

Her mother clicked her tongue in annoyance. _“Ayla, don’t be so dramatic.”_

_“I’m serious. I never want to see you again.”_ Ayla said resolutely. _“Now please leave.”_

She watched as her mother pursed her rouged lips together and stood up, leaving her room. After a moment of silence in her room hot tears fell from Ayla’s eyes as she cried softly. Whether it was from relief of grief she couldn’t tell, all she knew was that she was at least free of one burden in her life.

A knock came at the door, pulling Ayla’s focus back to the present. She ignored it but then the knocking came again, the sound more urgent. Whoever it was, they weren’t leaving. Ayla rolled off the couch, her joints still stiff and aching. She shuffled towards the door, her body still recovering from the aches and bruises after being out of the hospital for a few weeks. When she looked through the peep-hole it had been blocked. Thinking it was Pamela she unlocked the door, expecting her best friend, NOT her half-sister Charlotte. In a poofy white wedding dress, no less. Her blonde hair was in a tangled mess of hair pins and stiff curls, and her mascara and eyeliner streaking down her cheeks from obvious crying. She looked a mess.

It gave Ayla a small spark of satisfaction.

“Oh what fresh hell is this?” Ayla groaned.

Charlotte threw herself at Ayla, hugging her shoulders and crying loudly while Ayla winced in pain. Wanting to avoid her neighbors from coming out she pulled the crying bride into her apartment, gathering the ridiculously long train of her wedding dress before shutting the door. The skirt of the gown was so wide and layered thickly that Ayla’s entryway was just too small to fit both of them and she pushed Charlotte forward in order to be able to close the door. Charlotte sniffed and tried to wipe her eyes without smudging her already ruined makeup.

“Okay, I have to ask, what’s with this dress? It’s _horrendous.”_ Ayla said, leaning back against her island counter at the sniveling bride, her back getting that familiar prickling of pain.

“Greg—he cheated on me!” Charlotte sniffed, “I caught him screwing my maid of honor in our rented limo! Righbefothecerwahmownee!” she said through a shrill sob. Ayla didn’t understand the last part but got the idea.

Rubbing the knuckle of her thumb across her forehead Ayla felt another spark of satisfaction. “Char, you do realize this is karma biting you in the ass, right?” That only made Charlotte’s hysteric cries turn into a trill that made Ayla’s ears feel like they were going to bleed. She did the only thing she could think of and slapped Charlotte across the face, silencing the hysterical bride. Plus slapping her made Ayla feel better. “Get your shit together!”

“I thought we were in love.” Charlotte said, dropping to the floor and her gown, being so big and poofy, puffed up around her. She was practically drowning in chiffon and lace and frills.

“Okay, time out, I can’t speak to you while you’re dressed like that. It’s too distracting.” Ayla gave Charlotte a t-shirt and sweatpants to change into and let her clean up in her bathroom before sitting her down in her living room on the couch. Ayla winced as she lowered herself onto her couch and groaned when her body slowly relaxed into the cushions. “Start with why you thought coming to me was a good idea?”

“You were the only person I could go to. Mom would just tell me to ignore it and go on with the wedding. Daddy…he just does whatever mom says. And Jack…Jack hasn’t spoken to mom or daddy since he ran off with that band of his.” Charlotte sniffed.

“Again, why come to me? You were the breaking point for my divorce with the man that cheated on you today. On your wedding day. I should be the _last_ person you’d want to go to.”

“But we’re the same.”

“No, we’re not.”

“We were both cheated on by the same guy.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Ayla groaned, covering her face with her hands. Why couldn’t she be left alone to wallow in her depression and Chinese takeout in peace?

“And then you were in the hospital! Mom said to pick out a black dress because you were gonna—gonna— _ **diiiiie!!!”**_ Charlotte wailed, her voice becoming shriller than Ayla thought possible as she rubbed her forehead.

“Oooh, sweet baby Jesus!” Ayla groaned before slapping her hand over Charlotte’s mouth to muffle the sound. “Okay, Char, first—shut the fuck up. Second, do what I did and change the locks on your doors and toss all his shit out and then sell his precious car.”

Charlotte hiccupped, “He made me sign a pre-nup after we got engaged.” Charlotte said. Ayla blinked her eyes a few times.

“You dumb whore…” she sighed, “I suddenly can’t do this sober.” Ayla tried to get up but her body was just in too much pain. “Charlotte go grab two glasses and a bottle of vodka from the freezer. And also go into my bathroom and grab my pain killers from the medicine cabinet.”

Charlotte went and grabbed the glasses and bottle and the orange bottles of pills and brought them back where Ayla quickly popped a pill in her mouth and opened the bottle and poured herself and Charlotte a glass of chilled vodka.

“Oh, I don’t really drink…” Charlotte said.

“You want my support?” Ayla asked, getting a nod from her half-sister. “Then drink.”

Charlotte drank a few sips before making a face that showed her inexperience. After half a bottle and four more pills later, they were laughing like they were old friends as they talked about Greg and all his faults.

“Oh my god! He bought another crystal duck?” Ayla asked.

“Yes! The exact same one you destroyed! As soon as we moved into the condo he bought that stupid duck. What is his obsession with ducks?” Charlotte asked.

“It’s really stupid, actually; he graduated from the University of Oregon and claims it was gifted to him for graduating as valedictorian which, by the way, is a lie.”

“He lied about that?” 

“He cheats, Char, he’s not above lying to your face. He even failed the exams for his medical license twice.”

Charlotte leaned back against the cushions, “This was really nice. We’ve never been close and I feel terrible about that. And mom was seriously a total bitch to you.”

Ayla snorted, “I thought it was just me who noticed.”

“Jack hates mom, too.” Charlotte said, “Remember that one year at Thanksgiving and Jack blew up the turkey?”

“Wait, he _blew up_ the turkey? That was all his doing?”

Charlotte giggled, “He shoved it full of fire crackers and dressed it up in one of mom’s dresses.”

Ayla’s jaw dropped, “I gotta give that fuck-up more credit. You said he’s where again?”

Charlotte shrugged her shoulders. “Last time we spoke was over a month ago and I think he was in Detroit?”

“Is he still with that band?”

“Yeah…Y’know, Jack and I idolized you for always standing up to mom. She always came up with a lot of messed up things to make you feel excluded from the family. And when your dad died…I’m really sorry for what I did to you. You had every right to be so angry and I felt even worse about you losing your baby that same night you caught us.”

Ayla did her best to block out the memory, not wanting to reopen an old scar. “So what are you gonna do now?” she asked, changing the subject.

“I’m practically homeless now; the pre-nup states that I only get ten percent of everything.”

“What?” Ayla said.

“After you took everything in the divorce he convinced me that it was just for a safety backup plan.”

“For him. You realize that he gets _everything.”_ Ayla sighed heavily, but then a thought occurred to her. “Hand me my phone.” Charlotte grabbed Ayla’s phone off the coffee table and handed it to her. Ayla then sent a text to Stacy.

“What are you doing?” Charlotte asked.

“Helping you swindle that asshole out of everything he has.”

Charlotte let out a gleeful shriek as she lunged forward and hugged Ayla, making the older woman stiffen up as she bit back a painful yelp.

“Ah! I’m so sorry!” Charlotte said, suddenly panicked as she got off of Ayla.

“It’s fine, just pour me another glass.” Ayla said.

xxxxx

A week later Ayla sat with her sister Charlotte, who asked for her presence saying how she needed the emotional support while they sat down with Greg and their respective lawyers. Ayla had not seen her ex since their divorce and wondered what had she ever seen in him before? He aged well, and kept up with his personal care, but beyond that she didn’t feel anything but disgust towards him. 

Stacy, who was representing Charlotte, was efficient in negotiating the terms. She was able to void the pre-nup agreement as the marriage license had not been signed by both parties. It left the floor open for Stacy to swoop in and serve Greg new papers that stated in writing that Charlotte was now suing him for emotional damage and infidelity. Greg’s lawyer didn’t have a prayer for a countersuit that would stick considering his client had a record previously with Ayla. Stacy made quick work of Greg and his lawyer, and Charlotte walked away a free woman.

As Ayla and Charlotte were leaving the courthouse Greg called out to Ayla, jogging up to them both.

“Can we talk?” he asked, shooting a glance at Charlotte before looking back at Ayla. “Privately?” 

“No.” Ayla said, taking Charlotte’s arm and moving her towards the exit. Greg reached out, grabbing Ayla by the elbow and pulled her back slightly. Ayla whipped around, yanking her arm from his grasp, anger flaring inside her at his nerve. “I have nothing more to say to you. Ever.” 

Greg looked taken aback but recovered quickly as he stood awkwardly in front of her, shifting his weight on his feet. “Then just listen; I’m sorry that I was a lousy husband to you.” Ayla snorted. “I’m sorry that I hurt you the way I did.”

Ayla stared at him, unaffected by his apology. She had a lot to say to him about how he made her feel when they were together, and how he had abandoned her and how he had made her so bitter. She had the chance to finally tell him all of it but she didn’t because she was no longer angry. She had moved on. So she said nothing and just turned away from him wordlessly, walking out of the courthouse with her sister. Neither sister looked back at the man who hurt them.

“Are you okay?” Charlotte asked once they got in her car (Ayla didn’t own a car).

“Yeah, I am.” Ayla said, “Walking away felt more satisfying.”

“I thought for sure you would punch him in the nose.” Charlotte said.

Ayla let out a sigh. “No, with people like him, it’s better to show them that they can’t get under your skin anymore. He would have wanted me to hit him.”

“You’re a lot stronger than I am, if it was me he wanted to talk to I would have scratched his eyes out.”

“No, doing nothing is more damaging.” Ayla turned her head to look at her sister and gave her a gentle smile. “Plus now we’re both free.”

Charlotte smiled back, “Let’s celebrate!”

“Sounds good to me. Let’s get something to eat.”

“What do you want?”

“Carbs. Let’s go to Pagliacci, I want some good pizza.”

Charlotte nodded, driving to their new location. Ayla thought it was irritating to see Charlotte agonizing over the menu but not so much as it once had. It felt strange to sit across from her in a restaurant, acting like it was a normal occurrence. Maybe it could become normal. 

“I don’t know what to get,” Charlotte said, “There are so many choices.”

“Are you still a vegetarian?” Ayla asked.

“I only became one because mom said meat will make me fat. Same with bread and pasta and cookies…”

“She’s a piece of work.”

“Agreed.” Charlotte said, closing the menu. “I’m gonna order the Grand Salami Primo.”

Ayla snorted, “All meat, sounds great. Let’s throw in an order of pasta as well.”

When their food arrived Ayla saw the look of bliss on Charlotte’s face when she took her first bite of pizza. 

“Mmm. So good!” Charlotte moaned, “I forgot how good pizza was.”

Ayla took a bite of her own slice, enjoying the taste of salty meat, cheese, sauce and bread. The seasoning and spices just right. After finishing her first slice she reached for another and took a large, greedy bite. For the first time in what Ayla could guess was forever, she was having a good time with her sister. Then she saw a glimpse of someone from her past—no, not her past, her dream…but it was only just a glimpse. It was enough to give her pause as she looked again but didn’t see them a second time. Was it her imagination?

xxxxx

Ayla laid on her side in bed, having finished the last session of physical therapy that morning. Her bruises had all faded away and her body no longer ached as badly as when she first woke up from the coma. Her life was slowly returning to normal.

Normal…

Lunches with Pamela, drinks with Becky, shopping with Stacy, late night emails from Amber from wherever the hell she was in the world, checking off the days until she can go back to work. Eating a pint of ice cream in front of the TV as she binge-watched shows and movies. Going to Lamaze classes with Pamela (while fighting back the memories of her failed pregnancies, real and dream ones); and occasionally seeing glimpses of faces from her dream whenever she went out. Making her feel as if she might be going crazy. Now incorporated into her life was having dinner with her half-sister Charlotte on Sundays. This was what Ayla wanted, right? To be home, back to her normal life before Middle Earth. But if this was what she wanted then why did she feel so empty inside? Maybe she had wished for the wrong thing.

She heard the familiar jingle coming from her phone, alerting her that Pamela was calling. She didn’t feel like answering it but she needed to make an effort with her life and picked up the phone to her ear.

“Yeah?”

_“I’m going to a charity function tonight and my date bailed on me last minute. Rude right? So find a nice evening dress for tonight. I’ll be by at 7.”_ Then she hung up, not giving Ayla the opportunity to decline or accept. Looking at the time on her phone, she saw that she only had an hour to get ready. Well, it’s a good thing she showered that morning.

Dragging herself out of bed she went through her closet, looking for something to wear. Since it was starting to get warm as the season was gradually turning to a miserable rainy spring, maybe just a pair of nice slacks and a blouse will work. With her outfit set out on her bed she went to get herself ready by turning on her straightening iron and setting to work with her makeup while it heated up.

Jeez, it felt like forever since she applied makeup when in reality it wasn’t really so long ago. She decided to just settle on keeping her makeup low-key and neutral and not even bother with the lash extensions or contouring her cheeks. By the time she had finished straightening her frizzy hair and applying the leave-in conditioner was when she heard her front door open and closed, followed by—“Traffic is ridiculous!”

“Did you drive?” Ayla asked dryly as she turned her straightening iron off and left her bathroom, meeting Pamela in the hallway and going into her room together.

“You know I don’t bother.” Pamela said, taking off her black trench coat and revealing a sexy cocktail dress that was as red as wine but the effect, unfortunately, was overshadowed by her swollen belly. “So, what are you wearing?” Ayla pointed to her bed where her slacks and blouse laid and Pamela gave her a dramatic gasp. “Did being in a coma break your brain?”

“Pam, I’m not interested in attracting men tonight. And should you really be wearing that when you’re so close to popping?” 

Pamela ignored her as she barged into Ayla’s closet and immediately began her hunt for one of Ayla’s many cocktail dresses that she hardly wore in the past five years. When her friend emerged with the satin emerald green dress Ayla immediately opened her mouth to protest. “This is a charity function hosted by some rich guy who comes from old money. Everyone dresses to impress and donate a ridiculous amount of money to a charity they don’t even know anything about.” Pamela said, “There will be good, top shelf alcohol, and fancy food that will later make you regret when you’re head ends up in the toilet.”

“You make it sound so enticing.” Ayla said sarcastically, taking the dress and tossed it to the bed as she began to undress.

“If we’re lucky we’ll leave the function with some rich bachelor or someone who claims to not be married.”

“Wasn’t that our twenties?”

“No, our twenties were nothing but drugs, booze and sex, all while going to school full time.”

“Hmm, I guess priorities have shifted since hitting our thirties.” Ayla slipped on the dress, surprised it even still fit as she adjusted the bust and Pamela helped zip up the back. The spaghetti-straps needed a little loosening but other than that it passed Pamela’s approval. Ayla smoothed the emerald satin material down her body, the hem of the skirt stopping midway down her thighs and a memory of when she first wore this dress popped up and how she would roll up the skirt to shorten it and pin them in place. Now that she was older, she had no real motive or even the desire to attract a mate for a one night fling. Her heart just wouldn’t be in it.

“Put these on,” Pamela said, holding up a pair of closed-toe gold stilettos that she had pulled out from the box in the back of the closet. Ayla seriously needed to go through her closet and sort through her things; apparently she was hoarding a lot of things from her crazy party days.

With her outfit complete and hidden underneath a warm long jacket made of wool and rayon, Ayla followed her best friend down to the waiting car where they were then transported to Freemont. The function was being held in a hotel where the ballroom had been rented out for the evening. As expected it was full of people, all dressed in their finest. The men all in tailored suits and the women were all gussied up as if in competition with each other, and in truth it could be true. Their coats were dropped off at the door and given tickets to keep to have their coats returned at the end of the evening.

Ayla immediately grabbed a champagne flute, knowing she was not going to get through this evening sober. The least she could do was get a pleasant buzz while she acted as Pamela’s wingman since she had no intention of going home with anybody (plus she doubted Pamela was going to find a man willing to sleep with a pregnant woman on the verge of going into labor). Three glasses later and no buzzy feeling, Ayla was beginning to wonder if the function only provided a dry bar. She felt so cheated. She could barely focus on any of the conversations that were thrown her way while Pamela dragged her around the room. Ayla recognized a few of the faces as other doctors in the city, all of whom she hated and found incredibly uninteresting even outside of their profession.

Glass number five, this time she was just holding the glass to keep her hands busy as she pretended to be listening to yet another gentleman drone on about his stupid hobbies while Pamela was much better at staying engaged. Ayla took another sip of her champagne when another gentleman joined in their small cluster and when she looked up at him she immediately spat her drink out.

It was him! 

Or was she finally feeling the effects of the non-alcoholic champagne? Can that even happen?

“Oh, Ayla! You okay, sweetie?” Pamela asked, surprised by the spray.

Ayla had covered her mouth, handing her glass off to Pamela before quickly walking away towards the exit. She felt rather mortified to have reacted that way when she could have just been seeing something that wasn’t there, but his face and those eyes…The way his eyes looked at her, as if he…No! That was all a dream! They were all imaginary! _He_ was imaginary!

Ayla hid inside the ladies room, trying to get a grip on reality (and relieve her bladder, she had too many drinks). Her brain obviously was looking for someone who doesn’t exist because she had been depressed when she realized that Middle Earth had been nothing more than a dream. Seeing images of his face all over downtown. It was just a part of her psychosis trying to…to what? Drive her completely insane? She needed to leave. She needed to go back home. Opening her clutch she pulled out her phone and texted Pamela that she had too much to drink and was going to take a cab back home. She waited another minute before stepping out of the ladies room and headed towards coat check, handing the pimply teenager behind the counter her ticket number.

She felt a slight shift of air from behind her, alerting her that someone had stopped behind her. She didn’t bother to turn around, simply just waiting impatiently for this damn acne-prone teen to hurry up and find her jacket.

_“Didn’t I say that I would find you?”_ came the familiar, sultry voice that haunted her dreams. The voice that sent heat rushing through her veins and flooding her with desire. She slowly turned around to look behind her, looking up into those piercing grey eyes that she thought had been made up and felt her knees turn to jelly. It was just a good thing that she had been leaning up against the counter or else she would further embarrass herself. He stepped up to the counter just as the teenager returned with Ayla’s coat and handed his ticket to the boy who returned to search for his jacket. His gaze never straying from hers as the teenager returned with his jacket.

xxxxx

After nearly two hundred years Thranduil finally found her. Just as she had told him, she was in Seattle, the city that became his new kingdom, and ironically went along with his title as King of Wood and Stone. He quietly oversaw the expansion and evolution of Seattle from a shabby shanty town to a bustling city. His people quietly living among the humans, able to blend in enough to not arouse suspicion of their immortality. Effortlessly, Thranduil became the true ruling power of the Emerald City while his people filled the seats within the government, law enforcement, and conglomerate businesses as a private funder. And when he finally found her she was still just a child and would not know him until much later. But he was patient, and had kept a watchful eye on her over the years.

He found it amusing how Ayla was a rebellious teenager up until she finished rehab at seventeen and was on the road to recovery from her anorexia phase, then became a serious student to get into the college of her choice. He secretly helped fund her tuition under the guise of a “full scholarship” that only she got. He even made sure she didn’t get into too much trouble while she was in college, considering what she had deigned to share about her youth he had gathered then that she was a wild child. And he was right.

Though it didn’t spiral out until her father passed away and at that time he had briefly spoken to her, his heart aching to console her but knew it wasn’t yet the right time. Throughout her college career Thranduil had his people keep a watchful eye on her, being her midnight rescue after a night of partying with her friends, making sure unsavory people never got within fifty yards of her, and of course making sure she didn’t accidentally kill herself from all the drinking and experimental pill popping. One night Thranduil had found her wandering the streets alone, barely able to walk a straight line and he had to intervene and take her home himself. She was too out of it that night to make a safe judgment call and he drove her home. She had fallen asleep in the passenger seat, smelling of cigarette smoke and alcohol and was wearing a very sexy mini dress that showed more skin than it covered. When he parked in front of her apartment building he gently called her name, waking her up. She was still inebriated but she had kissed him and he almost gave in when she suddenly pulled away and opened the passenger door to vomit in the street. Without even looking back she stumbled out and disappeared into her apartment. That had been a close call and at the very least she had enough sense to not vomit in his car.

Another year went by and to his annoyance she married the pathetic human who would eventually betray her. Barely a year after that and they got divorced. He nearly laughed when he heard that Ayla had sold her ex’s belongings, including the sports car for half its worth and then sold the house. It was amusing how she didn’t waste any time on purging out the bastard from her life, but with the money she got in the settlement and from selling off his things she should have been able to buy a better home for herself, instead she settled for a small apartment that was walking distance from the hospital she worked at.

Another year goes by and then it finally happened. Ayla had been hit by a truck that slipped on ice going downhill, nearly killing her and putting her in a coma. It was just a lucky thing that Kwenthrith had been following her and was able to use elven medicine on her to heal her more serious injuries. Then it was just a matter of time until she woke up.

Every day he sat at her bedside, holding her hand and waiting for her to wake up. He had used his connections so as to not be disturbed or seen coming and going from Ayla’s room. He had been there when she had begun to awake from her coma, and despite wanting to be the first person she sees he knew it was not yet time. She will need time to recover from her ordeal and he could not be certain whether she will remember her time in Middle Earth.

Thranduil was loath to wait any longer but knew that it would be for the best. And then just a few months later he saw his chance to finally test and see if she remembered as he approached her at the Foundation Gala. She was standing with her obviously pregnant friend, wearing a seductive emerald green cocktail dress that clung to her body perfectly. When he was close enough, to his great relief and amusement, he watched as her eyes met his and they went wide and she spat her champagne out before practically escaping the ball room.

“What the hell has gotten into her?” he heard Pamela say. “Oh! You’re—!”

“Excuse me,” he said politely, turning to leave the ball room. When he exited the gala he didn’t see her and wondered if she had already left. He contemplated for a minute if he should check to see if she was outside until she finally came out from the women’s restroom and went straight to the coat check. Her reaction could have just been a fluke but he had to be certain as he came up behind her and spoke in Sindar: _“Didn’t I say that I would find you?”_

When she turned around, her stunned look was truly worth the wait.

“Shall we?” he asked smoothly, picking up her jacket first and holding it up for her to put on. She didn’t know what to say, her brain nothing more than white noise at this point as she turned around and allowed him to help her put on her jacket and then found herself being escorted out of the building with his hand pressed into her lower back. She was incredibly aware of where his hand was on her back and all of a sudden she was feeling self-conscious of herself. Once the cold evening air hit her face did her brain suddenly went into overdrive with questions, leaving little else but the basic of instructions to her body to simply keep moving while she tried to remember how to speak.

“I’m sure you have questions.” he said, breaking the silence between them. As if broken free from some spell, Ayla blinked her eyes and was able to focus her mind and stopped walking.

“How is this possible?” she asked, not looking at his face, worried her brain might just stop working again.

“The world has changed quite a bit and leaving for the white shores brought us to this world. Your world.” he took her chin and lifted her face up to look at him. “But I had to wait another two hundred years for you to even be born and even then I had to keep waiting.”

“So then what…you’ve been stalking me my whole life?”

“I’d like to call it keeping an eye on my investment.” he smirked and it made her heart flutter. “I’ll admit there were… _several_ occasions where I had to step in. Of course back then you didn’t know who I was and I was careful that you wouldn’t remember me until it was time.”

“Is this a dream?” she asked, looking up at him.

“If it is then it is a good dream.” he said, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him as he leaned down to kiss her, to satisfy the longing that had been gnawing inside his chest. She kissed him back, her hands running up his chest and holding onto the back of his neck, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. When they parted, he gazed deeply into her brown eyes, having missed looking into them. “This time there is nothing to keep us apart.”

xxxxx

Ayla couldn’t stop staring at the man sitting across from her, looking over a menu like it wasn’t a huge deal that he just spirited her away from a charity function. What was more was that he was real, not imaginary as she had started to believe. His platinum hair was shorter and slicked back, the beautiful elven clothes were replaced with designer suits. It shouldn’t be a surprise that he would look good in anything; it was just a little painful for Ayla because he looked too good. A million times better than the hottest male super models in the world and even though she was all dressed up she felt incredibly plain.

“I’m not going to disappear, _nin mel.”_ he said, his velvety voice like a sensual caress in her ears and flooding her brain, making her stupid since all she could do was breathe and stare. He looked up at her from across the table that suddenly felt like the distance was just too far. His grey eyes staring back at her and a smirk pulling at the corners of his perfect mouth.

“It’s just…I’m still not able to wrap my head around this.” she said, “How are you even here?”

“I told you already, I left for the shores of Valor and it brought me here. As had the rest of my kin.” he said.

“I’m still having a hard time with this. I thought I was going crazy thinking I made it all up in my head but you’re here, telling me that it was all real. The thing that gets me, though, is _how_ I was there while I was here at the same time.”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“You’re supposed to be wise and all knowing.” He just shrugged his shoulders. “Thanks…that was very helpful.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Clearly you’ve been drinking the sarcastic kool aid that Seattle is so famous for.”

He smirked at her, making her heart flutter in her chest. “Seattle offers more than just Starbucks coffee and Bill Gates.”

“Different haircut, different clothes, you even drive a car. I’m having a very hard time wrapping my head around this. So exactly how long have you been in Seattle?”

“Since 1863, of course back then it was called the _Town_ of Seattle, not city.”

“So you’ve been waiting here for what…” she paused to count in her head. “Over a hundred-fifty years?”

“To an immortal that isn’t very long.”

“How did you even get here?”

“Ironically the Undying Lands my people were flocking to was Europe, more precisely to what is now known as the UK. Of course my ship arrived to those shores about six hundred years ago and at that time this country had yet to be discovered.”

“Ironic…”

“Yes, but as I said, I didn’t arrive until the mid 1800’s.”

“So then this whole time you were here? Just…waiting?”

“Obviously.”

A waiter came by, filling their glasses with wine. Ayla looked up and recognized the waiter as an elf. There were no pointy ears to identify him with but it was the feeling she got from him (plus the waiter was unreasonably gorgeous). She looked back at Thranduil who was watching her. 

“So then what have you been doing all this time?”

“I’ve dabbled a bit in investments and business ventures.”

“So you’re a businessman?”

“In a sense. I own many properties not just here in Seattle but all over the Puget Sound and across the globe.”

“No shame in being ambitious.”

“Legolas handles much of the _family business_ overseas, managing deals with other companies and overseeing our estates. But as you can guess our headquarters are here in Seattle.”

“Estates?”

“I own a total of fifty-four castles and manors across Europe and eight islands in the Mediterranean.” 

“Right…can never have too many of those.” she said as their dinner was brought to them. Wait…when did she order? “So then just how much of Seattle do you own?”

“All of it.”

Ayla nearly choked on her wine as she struggled to swallow and brought a napkin up to her mouth to dab at the dribble of wine that splashed onto her chin and lips. “I don’t know why I’m surprised by that answer.”

“Well, two hundred years gave me plenty of time to build my kingdom.”

Ayla snorted, “Still cocky as ever.”

“Only to impress you.” he said with a smile. “Is it working?”

“Consider me impressed.” she said, smiling back at him.

“Ah, before I forget,” Thranduil began as he reached into his coat pocket and then held out his hand to her, holding out her bracelet. Ayla let out a soft gasp of surprise as she took the bracelet and looked at it, seeing that it really was the very one Thorin had given her. It even still had the Lasgalen gem in the heart shaped charm. “I thought you would want it back.”

“I can’t believe you kept it all this time.” Ayla said, looking up at him and smiled brightly at him. “Thank you so much.”

“I know how much you treasured it and I’m glad it brings you this much joy.” Thranduil said, smiling back at her as he watched her slip it back onto her left wrist. The evening with Thranduil felt like they had never left Middle Earth as they talked comfortably, the only difference was that they were not in Middle Earth. They were in Seattle. Together. They ate their dinner and held hands on the table, the need for each other’s reassuring touch reminding them that they have all the time in the world. As the evening progressed it was becoming obvious where it was going to end, the only question was who lived closer.

xxxxx

In a blinding whir he pulled her inside and pushed her hard against the closed door, his mouth crashing into hers with a whimper as he worked the belt and zipper of his pants. It took a second for the shock of the sudden action to subside, and then Ayla sprung to his aid, readying her hands to push his Armani pants down as soon as the belt, button and zipper were undone. In the span of a breath she was being lifted off the ground and held fast against the door by strong hands that ripped the string of her thong, while she guided his cock toward an immediate entry, plunging hard and deep inside her in a single move.

She didn't try to restrain the cry that seized her throat as she was instantly, overwhelmingly filled by the solid mass of his cock, and she pulled his mouth back onto hers as he began to thrust, fast and hard, pounding her against the door. Her thighs were clamped tightly around his waist and he moved his hands up to her hips, holding her body steady as he hammered away, grunting and growling while nipping hard at her bottom lip, his breath hissing through his teeth.

"Yes," she whined as his cockhead repeatedly connected with the aching mass of sensations deep inside her, propelling her swiftly back into an ecstatic delirium. "Yes," she gasped, sinking her hips deeper, angling for the greatest possible penetration. His fingers dug into her thighs, his eyes a stormy grey and lost to an erotic daze while he pressed her hard against the door. She surrendered to it, welcoming the force, the speed, the strength that was so evident in his powerful body. She cried out with abandon as he growled and bit her, drinking deep from her mouth while his cock worked her into a frenzy, delivering jarring thrust after jarring thrust, the sensations within building up to a blinding crescendo faster than she could keep up with it. Her orgasm was crashing its way out of her at the moment his body tensed up, his hands pressing her hips down onto his as he cried out with the force of his own release. His tortured voice came high and desperate as he spasmed his pleasure between her thighs, his hips slowly resuming shallow, measured thrusts as he emptied himself into her.

He let out a sigh as he fell forward, sandwiching her between his heaving chest and the door. She pressed her cheek on his shoulder as she caught her breath and clutched hard at the broad expanse of his shoulders, sliding her hand over the hot flesh of his neck. He lowered her down, her thighs still feeling the firm grip of his hands even after he released her, and together they leaned against the door.

“I’ve waited so long for you.” he breathed, his hands flexing against her hips. “And now my wait is over.”

Ayla pressed her face into his chest, breathing in that same heady smell of cedar and spice. “I’m here…you’ve found me, _nin mel.”_ she said softly, hugging him tightly.

xxxxx

Later that night Thranduil sat forward and draped himself around Ayla, laying kisses on the back of her shoulders and up her neck and behind her ear as they lounged intimately in a bath tub large enough to fit them both comfortably. He located the bar of soap on his own, and within a matter of seconds she felt hot, slippery hands covering the skin of her back, massaging along the deeper troughs of flesh and running down her spine. She leaned into his touch and she felt his hips buck toward her, squeezing their bodies together around his erection. Her insides were contracting, pulsating with the need for him, her whole body practically throbbing. Giving in to the urge finally, she slowly lifted herself, bringing a hand behind her to grasp onto the hard length and bracing it as she moved her body into place over it. His hands stopped and she heard a sharp intake of breath when the head of his cock met her ready entrance. She slowly lowered herself onto him, feeling herself stretch to fit the impressive girth, filling her up completely and teasing a low moan from her. His head came forward to rest on her shoulder and he gripped hard at her waist, his fingers digging into her sides.

“Don't move yet…” he whispered, his voice sounding saturated with need. “Just stay right there for a moment.” She let the full weight of herself settle on his hips and then leaned back, resting against his heaving chest. His soapy hands worked under her arms and slid over her breasts, cupping and exploring, circling her nipples and then dragging down her torso. She arched her back, grinding her hips down against him, barely resisting the need to writhe, to begin sliding herself up and down the length of him. But his arms around her were firm and solid, holding her securely into place.

“Show me how to please you Ayla,” he whispered into her ear. One of his hands making its trek downward into the water and she slid her hand over it, guiding him to the little pearl of nerves that was nestled within her aching folds. She used his fingers as she would her own, pressing down and moving in tight circular motions, letting him learn the rhythms she preferred. Her body's reaction was quick, immediately building up a sweet wave of pleasure and once again she found herself needing to move, clenching and grinding around him, wanting to buck her hips in time with his fingers. He held her close with the other arm, his chin resting on her shoulder as he looked down her body. She squirmed against him almost involuntarily, trying to slide herself up slightly so she could come back down, and feel the impact of their rejoining, but he only tightened his hold on her.

“Come for me Ayla.” he whispered into her ear. She kept her hand on his, adjusting the pressure and location when needed, feeling the unbearable wave of sensation continue to build, filling her body with the aching need for release. She directed his other hand to her breast and he squeezed, sending a peal of pleasure down her that connected directly to the motion of his fingers. She arched her back more as the tension built higher, the ecstasy teasing her into a tightly contained frenzy. She squeezed against his cock, her insides contracting with imminent climax and she noticed that his breathing had grown heavy, whimpers and grunts sounding low in his throat. She threw her head back, needing his lips, needing his tongue and his mouth on her immediately and at the slight turn of her head she found them, waiting and welcoming her kiss, devouring her lips hungrily.

The crest of orgasm came like a flood, drowning her in a sea of sensation so sweet, so perfect and intense that she felt herself begin to quake, her body spasming in pleasure around the anchor of his cock. Finally he arched up into her, his hips bucking forward with such strength that they were both lifted off the floor of the tub. He released a deep, primal growl as his body tensed and she opened her eyes briefly to see his toes curling. The feeling of him filling her and pressing hard against her aching depths, his fingers still working against her clitoris, the sounds coming from his throat, and his arms surrounding her, swallowing her; his mouth searching, consuming, biting, all combined to catapult her into a new stratosphere of sustained ecstasy. Another orgasm followed immediately on the heels of the first and she heard sounds coming from her throat that she barely recognized. She was crying, moaning, straining to contain the singing chorus of sensations that were exploding under her skin.

When it was done, she collapsed back against him, body pulsing as she gasped for breath. Her neck was damp with sweat despite the further cooling of the water. He tucked her tightly against his chest and nuzzled his nose down into her neck, groaning contentedly and laying soft kisses behind her ear.

“That was…” Ayla breathed, unable to find the words as she blinked up at the ceiling.

“…Incredible.” he said, kissing her neck.

“Yeah…that’s the word.”


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayla and Thranduil are reunited and there is an adjustment period. Ayla understand that Thranduil wants to pick up where they left off but everything is happening too fast and Ayla can't help but get swept away in it all. It's all worth it though because she's too happy to stomp down on the breaks.

Ayla blinked open her eyes slowly, her mind picking up the pieces of the previous evening as her eyes took in the unfamiliar surroundings. This wasn’t her room, it was much larger than hers and tidier to boot. Plus, the furnishing was much too nice and pristine, and the bed…it felt like she was sleeping on a cloud. Wait…she remembered the charity function Pamela had dragged her along to and then… Pushing her upper half up onto her elbows she felt a weight on her lower back and turned her head to her right and instantly she was flooded with euphoria. The sight of his sleeping face, relaxed and unguarded was a sight that she had thought she would never again see, but now knowing that he was real and not a dream meant she will have many more mornings like these.

Smiling, she settled back down, snuggling closer to him and being rewarded with a low groan from him as he shifted sleepily to hold her closer. His body heat was comforting and the feel of his fingertips tracing lazy circles into her back electrified her. His soft lips brushed along her forehead as his touch became firmer. Ayla slid an arm around his waist, pulling herself closer to him and breathing in his familiar scent of cedar and spice.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice deep and rich and laced with the lisp of sleep. 

“Mmm, morning.” she sighed, her lips brushing along his Adam’s apple. Her arm hugging his torso and pressing her palm flat against his smooth back. 

“It’s good to wake up next to you again.”

“Yeah, I can definitely get used to this again.” 

“I’ll arrange for your belongings to be packed up and brought here.”

Before Ayla could reply she heard her phone ringing, the ringtone telling her that Pamela was calling. “Shit! I forgot I ditched Pam last night.” she said, pulling out of Thranduil’s arms and untangling herself from the sheets and following the sound of her phone. Before stepping out of the room she grabbed Thranduil’s discarded shirt from the floor and pulled it on. She found her clutch by the front door and pulled her phone out, seeing that she had missed five calls from Pamela. She quickly dialed Pamela’s number and after the first ring Pamela picked up.

_“My water broke an hour ago! I’m at the hospital right now!”_

“What?! Already?” Ayla asked in shock.

_“Get here right now, Soryn!”_

Pamela hung up on her and Ayla was left rather stunned before snapping out of it a second later and running back to the bedroom where Thranduil was still laying in bed. She looked around for her dress and underwear and shoes.

“What’s the rush?” he asked, watching her pick up her clothes.

“Pam’s gone into labor and is at the hospital and knowing her she’s making the staff go through hell.” Ayla said, trying to slip on her dress from last night.

Thranduil got out of bed and walked over to the closet, sliding the door open. “Ayla, you can’t wear that to the hospital.” he said over his shoulder as he walked into the closet.

“Holy shit,” Ayla said, following Thranduil into the closet that was as big as her apartment. If she wasn’t pressed for time she would browse through his collection of designer suits and outfits for every occasion. 

“Here,” Thranduil said, suddenly appearing in front of her and fully dressed in tan slacks and a simple black cotton shirt. He held up a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. Ayla took them and changed into them.

“I’m not gonna ask why you have clothes in my size.” she said, making him chuckle as he lowered his head and kissed her chastely.

“I’ll drive you to the hospital.” he said.

xxxxx

Hours later Ayla sat outside the delivery room, holding an ice pack to her hand to keep the swelling down. Pamela had a surprisingly strong grip and nearly ripped her fingers off pushing the baby out. She was now an auntie (well, godmother), and as happy as she was for Pamela she kept thinking about her loss and wondered if she’ll ever have one of her own with Thranduil. She felt her pocket vibrate and she pulled her phone out to see an unknown caller. Having nothing to lose she answered the phone.

“Hello?”

_“I’m guessing all went well?”_ came the familiar rich timbre of Thranduil’s voice. Ayla wasn’t surprised that he knew her phone number.

“Yeah, Pam had a boy, but not before breaking my hand.”

_“Well you have insurance, I’m sure you can find a doctor to fix it for you.”_

“You have a doctor in mind?”

_“Yes, but she’s currently on medical leave. Something about getting hit by a truck.”_

“Sounds serious.”

She heard him chuckle on the other end and she grinned, unable to help herself. It was strange and wonderful at the same time to be talking to him on the phone of all things. It was crazy to think that just a few days ago she thought he was made up and now that she knows he’s real, her heart felt light and the dark cloud that had been following her had gone away. Her luck seems to have turned for the better these days.

_“How long are you planning to stay there?”_

“Knowing Pam she’ll beg me to stay with her until Henry’s gone off to college.”

_“Is that his name?”_

“Yeah, I was surprised that she went with a normal name and not something stupid like Apple or Coltan.”

_“People name their children after fruit?”_

“Dumb, right? Anyways, is this the number I can reach you at?” 

_“No, my cell number has already been put into your phone.”_

“Oh, that was fast and we’ll circle back to how you hacked my phone later…where are you calling from?”

_“My office.”_

“Your office?”

_“I do run a business, Ayla. Speaking of business I’ll have it arranged for movers to pack your apartment.”_

“Wait...what?”

_“Call me when your friend no longer needs your services.” he then hung up the phone._

“Jeez, no goodbye?” she mumbled as she put her phone back into her pocket and leaned back against the wall. She took a moment to think on what Thranduil had said and then a light bulb went off and she sat up straight. “He wouldn’t…”

xxxxx

Ayla stayed with Pamela for the entire day (being a doctor and working in the hospital had its perks of bypassing visiting hours), returning to the room with a cup of coffee from the café down the street, she found her best friend holding her baby and was in tears.

“Pam? What’s the matter?” Ayla asked, going over to her.

“It’s nothing, I’m just being hormonal.” she sniffed, “It’s just that I have a baby but no—no—no maaaan! And you left with the hottest man out there last night so what’s left for a single mom like meeeee?!” she sobbed and Ayla worried about her sobbing upsetting Henry.

Ayla raised her eyebrows but was relieved that it was just hormones. “Seriously? That’s what this is about?”

“You selfish bitch! You abandoned me at the gala to get your rocks off!” Ayla couldn’t dispute that.

“Pam, I promise you that once your hormones are back to normal you’ll be back out there and having guys line up for you around the city block.”

“But no hot guy will wanna be with a single mom who works full time at a hospital watching a bunch of stupid interns kill patients. On top of that pushing this baby out ripped something and now nothing will be the same down there! What am I gonna do? I’m gonna die alone as a spinster with a saggy pussy!” Henry then began to cry, distracting Pamela as she tried to calm him down while she tried to rein in her sobs.

“Oh sweet baby Jesus, there’s not enough percocet in the world for this,” she mumbled.

“I’m sorry, Soryn, I didn’t mean any of that.” Pamela sniffed, “Shit, how do I make him stop crying?”

Ayla walked closer to the bed and took Henry into her own arms and gently bounced him until his crying stopped. It was a nostalgic feeling as she remembered her time raising Aragorn and looking down at Henry only forced those memories to flood her mind. She wondered about her and Thranduil and if it will now be possible for them to finally have the family that they had been denied in the past.

“Since when were you so good with babies?” Pamela asked, bringing Ayla to the present as she looked at her friend.

“Since waking up from a coma after getting hit by a truck.” Ayla said, sitting down in the chair by the bed and smiled at Pamela. 

“You’re the best, Soryn, have I told you that?”

“Wow, they must’ve given you the good stuff.”

Pamela snorted as she laid back against the extra pillows Ayla had snatched for her earlier. “I mean it. Fifteen years of friendship, Soryn.”

“Fifteen? That long?”

“Give or take, we met during our Grad years in college.”

“Man, where has the time gone?”

“Probably lost in all the blackouts and partying and then eventually getting lives.” 

“Don’t forget getting married and divorced and having kids.”

Pamela smiled as she watched her best friend bounce her baby. “It’ll happen for you, Ayla. I know you better than anyone. You’re kind and caring and you’ll be a great mom.”

Ayla fought back tears. “Thanks, Pam.”

xxxxx

Ayla left the hospital that evening with Stacy and Becky, the trio walking down the street together towards the bar at the bottom of the hill to celebrate Pamela’s delivery, without Pamela present. They all sat around a small table near the back inside the small bar, Becky had gone to put in their orders. Ayla lowered her head to the table, exhausted from Pamela’s rollercoaster emotions. She couldn’t wait for her best friend to be back to normal because hormonal Pamela was unpredictable.

“Henry’s soooo cute!” Stacy cooed as she flipped through the photos she took of Pamela’s baby.

“Uuugh!” Ayla groaned, too tired to agree.

“I wonder what the donor looks like.” Stacy said.

“Uuuugh!” Ayla groaned again.

“All right, bitches! I scored us a bottle!” Becky said, setting down three shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey on the table. 

Ayla raised her head and sat up as Becky poured the drink.

“I don’t know, I’m still breastfeeding.” Stacy said.

“Your youngest is two years old with teeth; I think it’s safe to stop now.” Ayla said, picking up her glass.

“To Pam for pushing one out!” Becky said, raising her glass.

“To Pam!” Ayla and Stacy cheered, the three of them clinking their glasses together before tossing back the first shot. The warm burning sensation going down her throat a welcoming feeling as Becky poured the second round.

“To Ayla being a godmother and not dying from a truck hitting her!” Stacy cheered.

They clinked glasses again and threw back their second shot. They continued to drink, emptying the bottle down to a third of its content. Stacy had tapped out after her fifth shot while Becky and Ayla had switched to water with lemons after their eighth shots and were just sitting back and talking. Becky revealed that she and her husband have been talking about starting a family after being married for nearly seven years, which was shocking for Ayla considering Becky had always stood firm against being a parent. Stacy, in her drunken stupor, admitted to being afraid that she was a terrible mother and thinks her children hate her.

They remained at the bar that quickly became crowded with other alcoholic patrons once the clock hit seven in the evening and everyone was free from their jobs. Patrick, Becky’s younger brother and subsequently a nurse in Ayla’s hospital joined their merry group, drinking the rest of the remaining whiskey straight from the bottle. Aside from Pamela who was her best friend, Patrick was the only other coworker that Ayla liked, mainly because Patrick always had a good story and was equally sharp-tongued and evilly judgmental as the rest of them. Plus he always had the best work gossip to share.

“I’m surprised she hasn’t signed her baby away for adoption yet.” Patrick said.

“The night is still young.” Ayla said. Patrick suddenly perked up in his seat, his eyes looking in the direction towards the door. “What’s up with you all of a sudden?”

“I think my ultimate fantasy man just walked through the door.” Patrick said dreamily.

Ayla let out a laugh and looked towards the door, then her laugh was caught in her throat. “Ah shit…” she grumbled, knowing her night was over when she spotted Thranduil walking over to her table.

“Oh my god, he’s walking this way. How’s my hair? Do I have patient vomit on me anywhere?” Patrick asked with a note of panic in his voice.

“Weren’t you supposed to wait for my phone call?” Ayla asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“I got tired of waiting. Shall we?” Thranduil said, looking down at Ayla and ignoring the gawking stares from her friends.

Ayla smiled as she got up. She looked back at her friends with a smile and also trying not to laugh at the dumb look on Patrick’s face. “I’ll see you guys later.” she said, leaving the bar with Thranduil. She knew there was going to be a ton of questions that will be thrown at her the next time she got together with them. Once outside Ayla let out a yawn, her head still in a buzz from all the drinking and leaned against Thranduil a bit for support.

“Long day?” he asked.

“You have no idea,” Ayla slurred slightly before yawning again. “I’m ready for a hot shower and then going to bed.”

“Let’s go home then.” he said.

“My apartment isn’t far from here.” she said, pulling on Thranduil’s arm.

Thranduil let out a quiet sigh, not wanting to tell her that he thought her apartment was too small and beneath his standards. Especially when they just picked up their relationship in the past twenty-four hours. “Very well, I will take you to your apartment.”

“What’s wrong with my place?” Ayla asked.

Thranduil didn’t reply, thinking it wiser to not comment his opinions out loud. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”

Ayla tilted her head to one side, giving him a crooked smile. “Between barely able to walk and ready to pass out.”

“So more than you should have indulged in.”

She grinned up at him. “Just a little.”

xxxxx

Two weeks go by and Ayla was back and forth between her apartment and Thranduil’s. Ayla didn’t need glasses to see that Thranduil didn’t like her small apartment and he wasn’t being subtle about her moving into his place. Granted, his apartment was much nicer and had more space than Ayla could think to do with. Then there was the brief discussion about her returning to work full time and it was crystal clear that Thranduil had the idea that he could take care of her and all her needs (which is true but was not the point). Luckily that “discussion” was quickly put to rest and buried in an unmarked grave to never be dug up…for now. Ayla made it equally clear to the spoiled king that they were no longer in Middle Earth and that she had a life in Seattle that did not revolve around him.

Now back at work, Ayla was taking it slow to ease herself back into the familiar routine, only taking a few surgeries a week versus a few surgeries a day. Then at the end of the day she was met with an unexpected visitor.

“What the hell…” Ayla stopped just outside the main doors of the hospital to see Legolas standing next to the open door of his car. He was smiling at her while patients and employees eyed him and his car as they came and went. “This is over the top, even for you.”

“Nothing is too over the top for you, _Naneth.”_ Legolas said as Ayla walked up to him, hugging her tightly. “I’ve come to spirit you away.”

“Oh? To where?” Ayla asked.

“Are you hungry?” Legolas asked, smiling down at her.

“Yeah, but I’m still in my scrubs.”

“We’ll stop by somewhere and buy you a new outfit.”

“Or you can just drop me off at my apartment. It’s just a few blocks away.” Ayla said as she slid into the passenger seat. The door was closed as soon as she was settled before Legolas walked around the front of his car and got in the driver’s seat. “So when did you get back? Your father said you were overseas.”

“I returned the other night.” Legolas said as he smoothly drove them off the hospital lot and onto the streets of Seattle.

“Hey, you just missed the turn to my street. Where are you taking me?” Ayla asked, seeing her street disappearing out of sight.

“To your apartment.”

“My apartment was back that way.”

“Not anymore.”

“What?” Ayla snapped, coming to the quick conclusion that a certain Elvenking was behind it. “Where’s my phone?” she grumbled, going through her pockets and then her purse. She cursed when she realized that her phone was dead. She always forgot to charge the damn thing.

Legolas laughed as he drove towards the downtown area of Seattle in the Queen Anne District where the new and expensive high-rise condominiums had been erected. It was the area where Pamela had recently moved to, her excuse being “it’s for the baby,” but in truth Pamela was the type to having to need the newest thing on the market. That woman certainly had rich taste, especially since she could afford it. Outside the building that she recognized as Pamela’s was a moving truck where the movers were unloading boxes but no furniture.

Ayla suddenly had a dreadful feeling come over her.

“This wasn’t my idea, I swear.” Legolas said as he parked on the curb. Ayla immediately got out before the engine had been turned off. She couldn’t tell if those were her belongings in the boxes or not and turned to glare back at Legolas who walked around his car and onto the sidewalk. “I’ll show you to your new home.” he said, amused to see Ayla was fuming and knew that as soon as she was through the doors of her new home he was going to get out as fast as he could. He remembered very well what happened the last time when he got caught in the crossfire when Ayla was pushed to her limits and simply wanted to avoid a repeat mistake. They took the elevator up to the top floor of the building; the ride was long and awkwardly quiet. As soon as the elevator reached the designated floor and the doors slid open Ayla stepped out into the hallway where men in grey jumpers were hauling boxes in and out of the only door on the floor.

“Okay, bye _Naneth!”_ Legolas said. Ayla whipped around just as the doors slid closed with the blonde still in it.

She clicked her tongue in irritation and turned back around, walking across the threshold of the over-the-top space of marble floor tiles, a vaulted ceiling that was nothing more than a giant, domed skylight. The walls were beautifully painted with a mural that was an exact replica of the ones from the elven kingdom in Greenwood. Just standing there in her scrubs and sneakers, her uncombed hair in a messy bun on her head with fly-away strands of brown hair escaping the rest of the nest, not to mention a little sticky from sweating in the O.R. after standing under the bright hot lights for eight hours. She felt grungy, plain, and incredibly out of place. Whatever, she should be used to feeling out of place by now. She walked past the movers and entered through the door and suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at what she saw.

It was the penthouse of dreams that would make Pamela turn green with envy. Giant floor-to-ceiling window panels walled the other side of the room to see every angle of Seattle’s skyline and the Puget Sound, not to mention an eagle-eye view of the Space Needle. Past the white tiles of the entryway was wood flooring of light oak where the living room was, furnished with the most modern and sheik interior designing that it felt like she had walked into an Ikea catalog (but obviously nothing was shipped from the Netherlands). To her left was an open kitchen with onyx black countertops and clear glass cabinets, an island counter and all the amenities of a kitchen, all that was missing was a personal chef (which wouldn’t surprise her in the least if there was one). Ugh! Everything was too high-end that it was beginning to give her hives!

She looked at the boxes stacked up in the living room, labeled in sharpie for where to place them. All of which were labeled miscellaneous. Another urge to roll her eyes had to be squashed as she looked around. A staircase lined up against the wall to the second floor with a railed catwalk that wrapped around the wall towards a hallway leading to someplace out of sight. More than likely to the bedroom, or a bowling alley. Holy crap this place was huge!

“I was hoping to have everything in place before you arrived.” Ayla nearly jumped out of her skin, not having heard him as she was far too distracted with amazement and irritation as she turned around to face her beautiful tormenter. Thranduil had come in from a hallway to her right that lead to another part of the apartment (or was this considered a mansion?). His platinum blonde hair was slicked back perfectly, and he looked incredibly too sexy in a deep burgundy long-sleeve shirt with a deep V-neck to show off the creamy skin of his long throat and the top peaks of his chest. And then there were those pants, those leg-hugging dark jeans, showing off their length and powerful shape.

Gotta stay focused. Gotta stay pissed off.

“My lease at my apartment wasn’t up yet. I had another year on my contract.” Ayla said.

“As of this morning your contract with that hole of a building has been terminated.” he said, his tone smug as he walked up to her. “So you’ll be living here from now on, with me.”

“Moving a little fast, we just met a few weeks ago.” Ayla quipped, placing a hand on her hip in a saucy manner. Gotta stay focused. Gotta stay pissed. Why does he have to look so damn sexy?! “And how did you cancel my contract? Did you buy the building or something?”

“In a manner of speaking. It just so happened to be one of many properties I own in this city.”

Okay. _Now_ she rolled her eyes. 

“And you thought not asking me if I was okay with this wasn’t necessary?” Ayla asked, walking across the living room to peer out the window at the Sound. The view was amazing, but this was all just too much for her to take in, especially when everything seemed to be happening much too fast for her to even enjoy it. Plus she loved her old apartment; it was near all her favorite places to get drunk at within stumbling distance. Plus there was Eugene and his amazing Seattle Dogs that served midnight cravings just up the hill from her apartment.

“Of course not.” she heard him say.

_You smug bastard._ she thought bitterly.

“Ayla, it’s not as if we’re strangers. Remember, we were living together for centuries before this.”

“You still should’ve asked me. I actually _liked_ that apartment. It was walking distance from three bars and the best hotdog cart in Capital Hill.”

“Three gay bars and questionable meat, my…what standards you have.”

“Let me guess, you own this building, too?”

“Of course.” he said, coming up to stand close behind her, placing his hands on her hips. She could feel his body heat radiating off of him and his breath tickled her neck as his head was lowered to her level. “I have made Seattle _our_ new kingdom.”

Her breath hitched in her throat and felt every nerve in her body come alive. She wondered if he knew what he did to her by just breathing, driving her crazy with desire. The urge to spin around and just take him right there in front of the movers that still filtered through the front door was hard to resist. She took in a shaky breath and slowly released it, trying her hardest to calm down.

She couldn’t stay pissed and she lost her focus.

“So you’re in the business of real estate?” she asked.

“Almost, more like urban development.” he said, pulling her back against his chest, his arms now winding around her waist. “Legolas normally takes care of inspecting the sites while I handle the corporate end, making deals with sellers and buyers.”

“A king who sort of works for his money. So Legolas normally does the public appearances with your employees, then. How antisocial of you.”

She heard his low chuckle as she leaned back into him and resting her hands over his forearms. Her earlier tension slowly easing out of every muscle as she indulged in his embrace while her mind still worked on the fact that he was real. He was with her, in Seattle, in the present. He wasn’t a dream she had made up. The mystery behind the event that sent her to the past, to Middle Earth, was still an enigma with only theories to go on. Not even Thranduil could tell her what sort of magic was at play. Whatever magic was used she was just grateful that he was here, with her.

“I guess it’s not so bad here.” she sighed in defeat, knowing she was on the losing side in terms of the living situation. He already pulled the rug out from under her feet, and her lease bought out. “I just have to wonder how long this view will last.”

“For as long as you like. I promise that no building will block it.”

“Well that’s a relief considering all the cranes in this city. Are you responsible for the Amazon building?”

“No, but I did sell the property to them.”

“That building is an eyesore.”

He laughed lightly.

“What happened to my furniture?”

“Donated to Good Will.”

“You ass!”

“They’re from your previous marriage.” She rolled her eyes and huffed, losing steam to fight as she got comfortable in his arms. “I also told them to not bother with your kitchen ware since everything you’ll need is provided already.”

“What about my clothes?”

“You don’t need clothes.”

She let out a snort. “As tempting as that is I do need to wear something when I go out, like when I go to work.”

He chuckled, “Relax, they’re all upstairs in the bedroom.”

Ayla inwardly unclenched, glad to hear that her clothes made it through his scrutiny and were spared. It was still hard to tell when he was joking or not, he was just too good at hiding his tells. It was a reminder to never play poker against him if she could avoid it. She was a terrible gambler and had no mindset for a poker face. Ayla was surprised to see so many boxes and wondered if they were really all from her small, one-bedroom apartment. Oh wait, she did have a lot of medical books she inherited after her father died, but most of them had been put in a storage unit she rented. More than likely Thranduil had taken it upon himself to bring everything out and relieve her of yet another space without her permission.

Exactly how much liberty is he planning on taking with her personal things?

Ayla was given the grand tour of her new home with Thranduil, the size of the place was daunting and her mind immediately going to: _who’s gonna clean this place?_ Of course, knowing him, he already had a full staff of housekeepers on top of a personal chef. If she was going to go along that thought then he more than likely had a chauffeur to drive him everywhere, too. Downstairs there was a private library and Thranduil’s office space where everything was pristinely placed. As she predicted earlier, upstairs was where the master bedroom was and there were two guest bedrooms fully furnished. 

Across the hall from the master bedroom was a smaller room, and standing in the doorway, staring into the room, gave Ayla pause. It was a nursery. The walls had been painted to mimic Greenwood, the cradle Ayla recognized as the one from the Woodland Realm; the very cradle that had been made by Arlen. The rest of the furnishing were new, made of polished wood. Plush animal toys were neatly displayed, and a mobile above the cradle had handcrafted figurines from Middle Earth. Seeing the room made Ayla’s chest tighten and her eyes sting with tears.

Thranduil moved close to her, placing a hand on her back and rubbed small circles. “Are you upset with this room?”

Ayla didn’t know how to respond. The room was beautiful, it gave her hope but it also brought up terrible memories and doubt creeped into her mind. 

“What if we… _I_ can’t have a baby?” she asked, her voice low.

“There is no fault if we cannot conceive naturally and here, in this world we have options.” 

Turning around Ayla hugged Thranduil tightly. “Thank you.”

Once the tour of their new home was complete Ayla had every intention of going through her boxes to unpack but was told that one of the housekeepers will put them away for her in the morning (just as she thought), and was swept away into the bedroom. _Their_ bedroom.

“Holy crap! This bathroom is huge!” Ayla exclaimed, looking at the giant tub that could fit the two of them, a separate shower stall, a giant mirror over the counter and two sinks. There was even an extra room for the toilet with a door for privacy. Seeing the shower with the double shower heads, and still feeling grungy from a long-ass day of work, she definitely wanted to feel clean, the issue was her clothes. Everything was still packed away in boxes. Whatever. She doubted Thranduil will be against her strutting around naked. “I’m taking a shower.”

“Go ahead,” Thranduil said, pressing Ayla’s back against the glass wall, looking possessively down at her while he reached into the stall and turned the water on, letting it run and heat up. Of course if he kept looking at her like that she’ll need a cold shower. He was so close, his heady scent of cedar and spice filling her head.

“Wanna join me?” she asked, her voice at least wasn’t shaking. She saw the smirk on his face, his cocky trademark that was just too irresistible. 

“I’m not one to turn down such an enticing invitation.” he said, his hands already lifting her scrub top. Grinning, Ayla lifted her arms up, letting him take her top off and dropped the cotton material at their feet. Ayla returned the favor, taking his shirt off of him and letting the soft fabric join her scrub top on the floor. They kissed and their hands roamed over each other’s bare skin as they worked on the rest of their clothes before stepping into the stall. The water raining down on them from the two shower-heads.

Ayla had no idea how hot it was to see Thranduil dripping wet and completely naked. Soaping up and running their slippery hands over each other, the goal of getting clean with Thranduil working his skillful fingers through her hair. She couldn’t help but close her eyes and moan softly, the feel of his fingers massaging her scalp felt so good. She felt his lips on her again, starting on her forehead and trailing down the bridge of her nose and then to her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as their kiss deepened.

She supposed if living with him in the modern world meant she’ll be enjoying her showers like this, then perhaps it won’t be so bad.

xxxxx

Ayla collapsed on her stomach on the mattress, panting as she caught her breath while Thranduil collapsed on her back, his heavy breaths breezing over her shoulder. It was the morning after Ayla (unwillingly) moved in and of course the morning started off with her alarm going off and Thranduil keeping her in bed for a round of morning sex that, to be honest, Ayla could not deny was amazing. But looking at the time on her phone she was now forty-five minutes behind her usual morning ritual of sluggishly getting ready and then heading to the coffee shop for her usual cup of caffeine and a sugary pastry. Then there was the ten minute walk to work, but living in the Queen Anne district of West Seattle meant she now had to _commute_ in morning traffic. And she didn’t own a car. Which meant she would need to ride a bus and that would take her almost an hour to Capital Hill in morning traffic.

Crap. And her shift for clinic duty was going to start in ten minutes.

She made a move to get up but Thranduil’s weight on her kept her pinned against the mattress. “Hey, I’ve gotta go to work.” she said.

“No you don’t.” he said.

“Yeah, I actually do. Now get off.” she said, trying again to get up.

“Just quit your job, Ayla, it’s not as if you need to work again now that you’re with me.”

“Yeah, not gonna happen.” Ayla said, finally pushing up and getting out of bed. She heard Thranduil groan in the bed behind her as she quickly went to wash up and change into a clean pair of scrubs that she pulled out from one of her boxes. Coming back ten minutes later she grabbed her phone and dialed Patrick’s number who answered almost immediately after the first ring and explained to him that she was running late but she suddenly paused when Patrick said that her schedule had been cleared for the rest of the month and that another doctor was covering her clinic duty for the week. “What do you mean for the rest of the month? Who—never mind. Thanks, Patrick.” she said, hanging up and turning to look at Thranduil who had just sat up in bed, completely naked, and smirking at her. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Care to come back to bed?” he asked, his cocky smirk still in place.

“How did you clear my schedule for the rest of the month?” she asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Did you forget that I own Seattle? I also happen to know people who can make things happen whenever I ask.”

“Hmm, sounds like a cliché line from every gangster movie in history.”

His smirk grew as he simply beckoned her to him with a finger. Ayla rolled her eyes before setting her phone back down on the bedside table and climbed back into bed. He took hold of her arm and pulled her onto his lap, his lips finding hers. She kissed him back, unable to resist him as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“You’re gonna have to let me go back to work eventually.” she said against his lips.

“And why should I do that?” he asked, his hands sliding up underneath her scrubs and up her warm skin. 

“Because I’m a doctor, remember?” she smiled, letting him take her scrub top off before feeling his fingers unhook her bra and sliding the straps off her shoulders.

“Well then, doctor, perhaps you can remedy this rising fever.” he said, flipping Ayla onto her back as he moved on top of her. A giggle escaped her as she raised her hips up to let him pull her scrub bottoms and panties down her legs and tossed away to somewhere out of sight. 

“You do feel hot to the touch,” Ayla said, playing along as she slid her hands from his broad shoulders and down the plains of his chest and abdomen and moving lower until she grasped his pulsing erection. She heard him let out a soft gasp and pumped her hand up and down his length a few times. “I can only think of a few ways to bring your fever down effectively.”

xxxxx

Ayla was standing in Pamela’s living room, swaying gently back and forth with her godson in her arms while Pamela was reclined back on her couch and throw pillows. They were catching up a few days after Pamela left the hospital after having Henry.

“So let me get this straight…” Pamela began, rubbing her temples. “The night of the gala, the reason you ditched me was because the host of the party just so happened to be your ex from a long time ago?” Ayla shrugged, unsure of what answer she could really give. “And Thranduil _King,_ sexiest man alive and the richest and most _powerful_ man in probably this entire country—was not only your ex but your hook-up that night, too?” Again Ayla gave her an unsure nod of her head and the shrugging of her shoulders. “And now you’re living together in the penthouse of this building and _married?!_ I know you had a near-death experience but… _daaaamn!”_

Ayla let out a huge sigh, trying to come up with an explanation that Pamela could accept but telling her that “her soul or whatever was transported to a different world where she was immortal and couldn’t die and where she met Thranduil and fell in love and got married there and living a dreamy life before waking up in the hospital only to be reunited with her true love”—that seemed like a stretch even for herself. Honestly, she could hardly believe it to be the truth but it was.

“And you didn’t even invite me to the fuckin’ wedding!” Pamela huffed, crossing her arms in front of her. “I’m your best friend, you should at least have told me all of this first.”

“I’m sorry, Pam, really I am, but it all just…happened! It was like I had no control of the situation.” Which was mostly true since Thranduil literally took it upon himself to buy out her old apartment building, cancelling her lease, and selling her furniture and moving the rest of her belongings into the penthouse he had specially prepared for them to live in together—all without asking her first—then having her sign a marriage license that very morning to make it “legit” in the eyes of the State law. It almost felt like a hostile takeover of her life. It was very typical of Thranduil.

“And when did you ever meet him? Was it before you and I met? Is he your high school sweetheart or something? Wait—no, he’s been doing business since even back then…maybe he was your sugar daddy? Were you a high school tart baby?”

Ayla snorted and rolled her eyes. In a way he was like her sugar daddy, giving her whatever she wanted and that he’s thousands of years old making their age gap “appropriate” for the label. Would he get that term? If he did would he think it hilarious? Because she totally did. “It’s complicated. But believe me when I say that we’re happy, _I’m happy._ Can’t that be enough?”

Pamela stared at her for a long minute, obviously deciding whether or not to accept it before she rolled her eyes and then smiled at her. “Fine. But seriously, for you to just suddenly snag the most eligible bachelor in the world for yourself—Selfish much? Is he into threesomes?”

Ayla let out a soft laugh. “Anyways, he’s already planned for us to go on our honeymoon, travelling almost everywhere and also not telling me where we’re going which shouldn’t shock me; bastard has a habit of never telling me anything. So I’m just giving you the heads up that I’ll be gone for awhile.”

Pamela narrowed her eyes. “How long is awhile?”

“I have no idea, maybe a month or two? Like I said, he’s got a real bad habit of not giving me details until the last minute.”

Pamela’s jaw dropped. “Is he strictly monogamous?” 

“Pam…”

“Does he have friends?”

“Pam…”

“So you’ll be staying in fancy suites and everything, huh?”

“I don’t really know, he did mention owning properties all over the place but he was really vague about that, too. I just know that we’ll be doing a lot of travelling.”

“Hmm, seeing as how you jumped right into this relationship I wouldn’t be surprised if you came back knocked up.”

_Considering we’ve been doing it like bunnies I wouldn’t be surprised either._ she thought and then felt the slight twinge of worry. What if she couldn’t? “We’ve talked about having a family but we’re not planning on when to start.”

“Meaning…?”

“I’m scared that I’m not capable of carrying to full term. I mean…you know what happened last time, what if it happens every time?”

“Oh, Ayla, I know that what happened that time was just awful but you have to remember that you were miserable with that asshole.” Pamela said, “And even though I think you’re totally out of your mind I can see how happy you are. You’re glowing and it sickens me.”

Ayla burst out into laughter, waking up Henry who then began to cry.

Ayla spent most of the day with Pamela and Henry, knowing her best friend needed the extra help until she got into a routine with Henry as a new mother. Ayla felt rather nostalgic when she held Henry, remembering when Aragorn was that small. She then thought about the baby she lost but also of the second chance she now had with Thranduil and the thought of them having a child together gave her a feeling of hope. After returning from a walk around the park together, drinking coffee and people watching, Ayla took the elevator to the top floor of the building to the penthouse. Stepping out into the foyer, not at all surprised that more furnishing and plants were brought in, making it grander than it needed to be.

She rolled her eyes as she walked up to the front door, the lock automatically unlocking for her when she was close enough (no real key required because manually unlocking doors is beneath the spoiled King apparently). Entering her home, she kicked off her shoes and set her “keys” and wallet down on the island counter of the kitchen as she went to the fridge to get a bottle of water before walking out to the open living room and plopped down on the plush sofa. With the TV on a random channel she simply just held up her phone and scrolled through her emails and social media pages while leisurely sipping the crisp water. This was what she needed…solitude.

Thranduil was at work, wherever that was, (she really needed to find out where his office building was) and Legolas lived in a different apartment building closer to the downtown area on Beacon Hill. Alas, her short time of solitary sanctuary was over the second she got a text from Thranduil, telling her (not asking) that they will be going out to dinner later that evening. Rolling her eyes Ayla texted back her reply of an emoji rolling its eyes. The restaurant they were going to was Cuoco, which she had been to once in the past and recalled that she enjoyed herself there. Then again, she was also drinking a lot of wine and hardly recalled the quality of the food, plus it had been with her ex-husband, Greg back when they were engaged.

At least this time she knows she will enjoy herself since she’ll be with Thranduil. She smiled at the thought of him and her eyes strayed down to the ring on her left hand. She raised her hand higher, admiring the way the diamond sparkled. It didn’t surprise her that Thranduil had a ring made with Lasgalan gems on a band of mithril. As pretentious as he can be, Ayla did appreciate fine jewelry.

As evening rolled around, Thranduil returned home to pick Ayla up and together they left for the restaurant. Expecting to have a quiet and intimate dinner together Ayla was surprised to see Kwenthrith and Arlen waiting for them, along with Elrond, Galadriel, Celeborn, Tauriel and of course Legolas. Ayla and Kwenthrith embraced each other tightly; Ayla never thought that she would have missed someone so much in her life. Ayla hugged everyone, happy to see them again. The reunion was a wonderful surprise and having their own private section of the restaurant meant none of the other patrons of the establishment could walk by and interrupt them, because that happened too often when she and Thranduil eat out and some ballsy woman would approach their table to hit on him.

Plus they were free to speak in the beautiful language of elvish and have no one stare and try to figure out the very foreign language. Although Ayla and Thranduil did that anyway without a care. The evening consisted of Ayla hearing everyone’s stories and what they were currently doing. Galadriel and Celeborn lived in Switzerland, content with the peaceful country. Elrond lived in England. Kwenthrith and Arlen both lived locally in Seattle up in Ballard, and to Ayla’s delight they also got married. Ayla was also thrilled to learn that Tauriel and Legolas were engaged.

The evening went by too fast for Ayla as their reunion concluded on a high note with promises of seeing each other again. Ayla had already exchanged contact information with Kwenthrith and Tauriel and made plans to meet up soon once she and Thranduil returned from their honeymoon. It felt surreal to be using modern technology with them, to see them in her world, but it also felt good knowing her loved ones were here.

xxxxx

Ayla let out a relaxed sigh as she enjoyed herself on the sandy paradise with her husband. _Husband_ …Ayla liked that. In Middle Earth they were married and now in her world they are married again. She wondered if this is what it felt like to know that she was with her soulmate? Ayla turned her head towards him, taking in his relaxed profile as he was reclined back with his eyes closed. The two of them were lying comfortably in beach lounge chairs, under a large umbrella that protected them from the sun. Of course that didn’t stop Ayla from applying on sunscreen and then insisting Thranduil do the same, of course on the condition that she apply it on him. It still felt strange to see him looking so casual and relaxed but still undeniably beautiful, and _shirtless!_ She definitely preferred him with no clothes, and with a private beach to themselves, no one could interrupt their paradise.

“So exactly how private is this private beach?” Ayla asked.

“I own the island,” he answered as if it were obvious. “So it’s very private.”

Sitting up with a smile Ayla took off her sunglasses and stared out past the white sand and at the blue ocean. The gentle breeze brought up the smell of the ocean. With just the two of them, and the beautiful view, this was by far the most relaxing vacation she has ever had. 

“Are you enjoying yourself, _Nin Mel?”_ Thranduil asked.

Ayla looked back at him with a smile, seeing him looking at her. “I am; I haven’t done much traveling so coming here has been a great start to our honeymoon.” 

“Good, I want you to make memories that will make you forget you were ever married to another man.”

Ayla’s smile grew as she scooted closer to him and kissed his cheek. “Already forgotten.”

Thranduil smiled at her, kissing her nose as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Good.”

“So where to next after this?”

“Where would you like to visit?”

“Hmm…Galadriel and Celeborn did invite us to their home in Switzerland.”

“Visiting friends while we’re supposed to be on our honeymoon.”

Ayla giggled, “How is visiting old friends any different from the usual? Plus we’ll still do things together.”

“I should hope so.” he said, pulling her closer and Ayla lifted her face to press her lips to his. 

xxxxx

(6 months later)

Ayla tossed the test away in the garbage, not before wrapping it in a cocoon of toilet paper and then left the women’s bathroom at work. She knew she hadn’t been feeling well lately and she was exhausted more than usual, taking naps in between surgeries. Not to mention her usual go-to foods and snacks started to not taste right to her. But again, she dismissed it as possibly coming down with the flu or something; after all, working in a hospital with a bunch of sick patients, she was bound to catch something. But never did she think it was because she was pregnant until Pamela said something that triggered her curiosity.

She couldn’t be positive of the results; after all, peeing on a stick wasn’t always a reliable way of finding out. Either way, it was too soon to really tell and she was _not_ telling anyone. Not until she knew for sure. That was her line of thinking until she found herself going into Pamela’s office and locking the door behind her as she looked at the other woman who was in the middle of rolling a blunt.

“I’m pregnant.”

“Congratulations?” Pamela said, unsure if she should be happy for her friend or not, considering Ayla looked like she was on the verge of a panic attack.

“Don’t tell anyone.” Ayla said.

“Not even to Stacy?”

_“Especially_ not her! Stacy can’t keep a secret to save her own life!” Ayla said.

“What about, you know—the man you rushed into a marriage with? You know the one I’m talkin’ about, right? Your husband?”

“I’ll tell him when I’m ready. He wants kids, I’m just wrapping my head around the fact that I just peed on a stick and it showed the double stripe. I’m gonna wait another week and try it again. It could just be in my head or something.”

“This is just too funny.” Pamela said, cackling at Ayla’s expense. “Everything this year has just been back to back. Getting hit by a truck, waking up from a coma, cutting ties with your banshee mother, helping your sister with your mutual ex, rekindling an old love, moving in together, getting married, going on a long ass honeymoon, argue about quitting your job, and now a baby. Did I leave anything out?”

“Fuck you.”

“Now you’ll have to abstain from drinking, smoking pot with me in the hospital chapel and eating raw fish. Instead you’ll be trading all that in for morning sickness, mood swings, weight gain, kankles, back pain and cravings all the time.” Pamela could still see the uncertainty on Ayla’s face. “It’ll be different this time. I promise you.”

“Just…keep this secret.” Ayla said, unlocking the door and leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!!


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayla is finally pregnant and now all she can hope for is a happy ending for her and Thranduil

Ayla walked through the front door of her apartment, having returned from another day at the hospital. As great as it was to be living with the man that she loved, she didn’t realize how much of an adjustment it would be considering how different the circumstances were. In Middle Earth she supposed it was easier because it was partly out of necessity, and presently with her job and friends it made things hard to focus and prioritize on what was in front of her. Of course it didn’t mean she didn’t love Thranduil any less, she just now had other distractions of the twenty-first century and it was hard to keep her attention on one thing when a billion other things were happening all around her. On the bright side, she now lived five floors above her best friend and godson.

Ayla looked down at her left hand, at the simple silver wedding band on the ring finger and couldn’t resist the smile that pulled at the corners of her mouth. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out her engagement ring and slid it onto her finger to join her wedding band. Ayla had to admit, she really liked the idea of being married to Thranduil in her world. Living a modern life together, married, and maybe this time they can actually have the one thing that was denied in Middle Earth: kids.

Ayla sat at the island counter, her head resting against her knuckles while she stared down at the piece of paper that had her results from the blood work she had done that morning. Plus side to being a doctor, she had the privilege of getting her own labs done in just a few hours versus waiting days. She already knew she was pregnant having gone through two store bought tests and then using the instant urine test at work, then there was the ultrasound she had Pamela help her with in secret…but to see it written on paper…it felt more official. And as happy as she was, she was also rather fearful and rightfully so. She already suffered through failed pregnancies in the past, what if it happened again? She was fairly confident that it won’t happen again since now she was officially “awake” but it didn’t mean there wasn’t a sliver of doubt.

Then there was the matter of telling Thranduil. How would she tell him? Text? Phone? In person? She let out a sigh, wondering how to tell him. She wanted to make it a surprise but she also wondered if it was too soon to have a baby, after all, they’ve only been back together for less than a year.

“Shit…what am I gonna do?” she wondered aloud, running a hand through her hair and then scratching the back of her head, messing up her hair further.

“You’re pregnant?!” Ayla nearly jumped out of her skin and whirled around to see Legolas standing right behind her, obviously able to read what was on the paper with his perfect eyesight. Damn his elven stealth! They stared at each other in shock before Legolas’ face broke out into a wide grin. _“Naneth!_ I’m so happy for you and father!” He hugged Ayla’s shoulders tightly, excited by the news.

“Shit! You can’t tell anyone, all right?” Ayla said as Legolas released her, looking confused.

“But this is good news.” he said, “I thought you both were trying to get pregnant.”

“I know and so far only you and Pam know.”

“How does Pam already know?”

“Because I told her, but that’s beside the point, I want to be the one to tell your father. I’m just trying to figure out how to let him know.”

“Just show him this paper with the result.”

Ayla shook her head, “When you get married and your wife tells you that she’s pregnant you’ll want to hear it from her and not read it on a piece of paper. Trust me.”

“All right, I won’t tell a soul.” he said, still grinning. “This is just exciting news.”

“Wait…what are you doing here?” Ayla asked, suddenly realizing that Legolas was in her kitchen.

“Did you forget? We had plans to get lunch, unless you want to cancel?”

“Shit, I forgot! Let me get my jacket.” Ayla said, hurrying up the stairs to grab a light jacket before coming back down. “Okay, let’s go!” she said, grabbing her wallet, phone and keys from the countertop.

Together they went out to a small bistro in Fremont, sitting at a table in the back corner. They were currently unable to stray from the topic of her pregnancy and Legolas was already preparing a baby registry for her on his phone while Ayla was scrolling through Pinterest on her phone for ideas on telling Thranduil that she was pregnant. It was hard to contain their combined excitement.

“All these ideas are interesting but also too stupid to do. I can’t imagine myself wearing a shirt that says _‘Bun in the Oven’_ without getting embarrassed.” Ayla said.

Legolas laughed, “Well at least I’m almost done with your baby registry.”

“What? But we don’t even know the gender yet.”

“I’m just adding items that you’ll need, and you can change the color later.”

“If I didn’t know you so well I’d swear you’re gay.”

“Funny enough you’re not the first to say that, Tauriel teases me daily about it but I prefer the term metrosexual.” Legolas said, not at all offended.

“Oh, wait!” Ayla opened her photo album on her phone and scrolled through the pictures on it. She had forgotten that she and Pamela had used the ultrasound earlier that morning and she had downloaded the images onto her phone. “I know how to tell him.”

Suddenly her phone began to ring and the caller was Thranduil. Strange, she didn’t attach the photos to a text yet. Answering she held the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

_**“You’re pregnant?!”**_ came his voice, full of surprise.

“What?! Did Pamela tell you?!”

_“Pamela knows before me?”_

“Well, I—it’s just…” Ayla was at a loss for words on how to explain it and slapped Legolas’ arm who was laughing at her expense. “How did you find out?”

_“I found this result sheet on the kitchen counter with your name and today’s date on it.”_

Ayla looked at Legolas who was struggling not to laugh while still scrolling through his phone. She totally forgot that she left the test results on the kitchen counter. _Fuck!_ She sighed. “Yes, I am. But that’s not how I wanted you to find out.”

_“How long?”_

“I just confirmed it today. Hold on, I’ll send you the ultrasound pictures.” she said, quickly attaching the photos and sending them to Thranduil. “Did you get them?”

_“Yes, but I don’t know what I’m looking at.”_

“I’ll point it out to you when I see you later.”

_“Who else knows? And why am I the last to know?”_

“I told Pam first and Legolas found out by accident.”

_“Anyone else?”_

Ayla rolled her eyes. “No. Just them and now you.”

_“Come home immediately.”_ he said before hanging up.

“Well, that could have gone way worse.” Ayla said, “Come on, I’m suddenly being summoned home by the King.”

Legolas snickered as they left the bistro after paying for their meal.

xxxxx

Walking through the front door of the apartment, Ayla barely set her things down on the counter when Thranduil rushed up to her and wrapped her in his arms and kissed her hard. She was caught off guard by him and when he pulled back from the kiss he was beaming down at her.

“Show me in the photo. Where is our child?” he said, practically carrying her to the living room and pulling up the photo on his phone screen as he sat down on the sofa with her in his lap. Ayla couldn’t stop the giggle, rarely seeing him so excited over anything as she pointed out where their baby was in the photo and enlarged the image on the screen.

“It’s not much to look at right now but that’s our baby.” she said.

Thranduil set the phone aside and nuzzled his face into her neck, kissing the sensitive flesh. Ayla giggled some more as she situated herself to straddle his lap and kiss him passionately. 

“I love you.” he said, holding her head in his heads as he touched his forehead to hers. “I thought I could not be any happier when we resumed our lives together, but now…now I have no words to express what I’m feeling.”

Ayla couldn’t help herself but to giggle some more. “I keep forgetting that you’re actually a romantic underneath the cold businessman suit. But I know what you mean.”

“How long are we supposed to wait to find out the gender?”

“About five months.”

“And how far along are you right now?”

“I’m not really sure but if I had to guess from the sonogram I’d say maybe eight weeks?”

Thranduil placed his hand over her lower abdomen. “Then we only have to wait another twelve weeks.”

“You know, we could always do a blood test and find out now.”

“If we were still in Middle Earth we would be forced to wait until after the baby was born to learn the gender.”

Ayla smiled and kissed his brow. “But we’re here, in Seattle, and we have options.”

“Yes…we have options and resources beyond imagination.”

xxxxx

For once in her life, Ayla could not be happier than to be at work because Thranduil was driving her absolutely crazy. He acted like she was suddenly the most fragile thing in the world now that she was pregnant again. He even insisted that she just quit her job. Honestly, does he know nothing about her at this point? She had absolutely no intention of going on an extended maternity leave. Just getting out the front door had been a hassle since Thranduil was annoyingly reading passages from the latest version of _“What to Expect When You’re Expecting.”_ Telling her that in her early stage of the first trimester that she must avoid all things that can stress her out and Ayla screamed that he was stressing her out and left.

Pamela threw her head back and laughed after Ayla told her of that morning as they sat together in the hospital cafeteria over a morning cup of coffee (decaf for Ayla, ugh!).

“I wish I can go back in time and have burned that piece of paper and just waited to tell him after the baby was born. He’s been sooooo annoying.” Ayla said.

“I’m having a hard time imagining that.” Pamela said, still working on reigning in her laughter. “At least now you’re part of the club. Do any of the girls know?”

“I’m gonna wait a little longer before I tell them. Stacy will be throwing all of her baby tips at me every hour of the day. I’d rather just play this by ear and hope I don’t kill anyone.”

“You’re happy, just admit it.” Pamela smirked.

Ayla smiled as she brought her coffee to her lips. “I am. And I’ll be happier once Thranduil stops reading those fucking books and relax.”

“I can’t believe that in just a month you guys hooked up, moved in together, and then got married. Fast forward nearly a year later and you’re having a baby.” Pamela said, “I’m just blown away that you accomplished all of that in less than a year. You should write a column for Cosmo on how to nab a trillionair.”

“I already told you that we have a—”

“Long and complicated history. Yeah, I _know.”_ Pamela said, clicking her tongue. It was obvious that her best friend didn’t like the story she gave her about how she and Thranduil had met and never told her about him until he practically Shanghaied her into moving in with him. At the very least Pamela was easily distracted by the beautiful people that worked for him.

Ayla glanced at her watch. “Well, I guess I should get to scrubbing up. My patient isn’t going to replace his own knee after all.”

“I’ll catch you later, Soryn. Or do you prefer King?”

Ayla snorted as she stood up with her coffee. “I’ll see you later.”

xxxxx

Ayla walked up to the nurse’s station after receiving a page. She had just finished with surgery and was in need of changing her scrubs. The surgery room had been hot with the bright lights and she felt more sensitive to the change in temperature in the rooms.

“What is it, Patrick?” she asked. 

“Dr. Soryn, you have a visitor.” said Patrick, 

Ayla looked at him curiously. “I do?”

“Yeah, and he’s _hooot!”_ he whispered.

“Ah fuck.” Ayla huffed. There was only a handful of “hot” men in her life now, so she had a limited guess as to who. “Where is he?” 

Ayla marched to the hospital cafeteria, finding her visitor sitting in the back corner. She marched up to him and placed her hands on her hips. “Why are you here?” she demanded.

Thranduil looked up at her, his grey eyes looking at her up and down. “I just thought I’d drop by.” he said smoothly.

Ayla rolled her eyes. “You do know how to text, right?” she asked sarcastically as she sat down in the chair across from him. “I’m not going to quit or reduce my hours because you say so. And no, I’m not going on an early maternity leave because you say so, either.” 

“You do realize that you don’t have to work anymore. I can provide a very comfortable life for you. Just like when we were in Middle Earth.”

“That’s because in Middle Earth I had nothing better to do but lounge around and nurse someone’s fever.” Ayla said, already feeling her hackles rising.

“You did more than lounge around,” he said, giving her a wicked smirk.

She flushed at the look he gave her and felt herself losing steam. “True, but here I have an actual job and I have more options of staying occupied. Like Facebook stalking and all that jazz. Just let me keep working until I’m ready to go on leave, otherwise I promise I’ll make this entire experience a living hell for you.”

“Very well, I’ll allow it for now.” he said, “I’m just concerned, that’s all.”

She had to bite her tongue at his comment of “allowing” her to keep her job. “And I appreciate it,” she said, “But you’re becoming overbearing and it’s driving me up the wall. Stop it.”

“You’re carrying precious cargo, can you really blame me for worrying?” he asked, “I don’t want you to go through what happened last time.”

“It won’t happen again, so stop worrying.” she said, “Also, please stop forwarding stupid emails about eating healthy for the baby because I will rip your precious vocal cords from your throat.”

He chuckled. “All right, I’ll stop and I’ll try not to drive you crazy outside our bedroom.” 

“Since you’re here, let’s go get lunch.” she said, getting up from her seat. Thranduil stood up, tugging the bottom of his coat to straight out the creases.

“What are you in the mood for?” he asked.

“Something spicy. Maybe Thai? Ooh, no, Korean, let’s get Korean food!”

She noticed the slight twitch in his mouth, forgetting he disliked spicy food. Centuries of living on a bland diet obviously left the Elvenking lacking in having an adventurous pallet. “All right.”

xxxxx

Patrick nearly jumped over the nurse station when Ayla returned from lunch date, obviously curious about her guest from earlier. “Who was that beautiful sex god of my ultimate fantasy and is he available?” he asked right away.

“My husband.” Ayla said, continuing her path towards the locker room. Patrick followed.

“Wait, he’s the guy from the bar—” he gasped dramatically, “You lucky bitch! So he’s not available but does he have a brother, perhaps?” Patrick asked with a lilted tone of hope.

“He has a son from a previous marriage.”

“Oooh, the plot thickens. How old and is he equally as gorgeous?”

“Old enough and yes, he’s a good looking man. They have good genes.”

“Old enough? Meaning frat boy college age with the stamina of a stallion?”

“Patrick.” Ayla said, looking at him pointedly. “My stepson is not available to explore a new relationship.”

Patrick looked put off by that. “Dr. Soryn. Or are you changing your name? What am I supposed to call you now?”

“You can still call me Soryn.”

“So if he has a son in college then that would make your husband, what…in his fifties? Sixties, maybe? Because _damn!”_

Ayla snorted, if she told him his real age her assistant would just think she’s joking. “Sure, he’s in his fifties.”

“Well look at you goin’ for the hot dilf.” Patrick said, playfully bumping his shoulder into hers. “Tell me everything; I need to hear all about the juicy details. First; how is he?”

Ayla turned and entered the locker room with Patrick right on her heels. “Stamina of a stallion, and just as big.”

Patrick practically swooned as he fanned himself. “Preach it to me, girl! My imagination is puttin’ me on fa-yar!”

Ayla pointed to her door. “Out.”

“Spoil-sport.” he quipped before leaving the locker room in a dramatic huff before peeking back in. “So his son…”

_“Out!”_

xxxxx

(Four months later)

Sitting at the island counter in the kitchen with a bowl of sugary cereal, Ayla was reading through a few old medical charts and examining the x-ray copies she brought home to review over the weekend. It was an old case she had done shortly after finishing her residency. She lifted the x-ray up to the light to get a better view of the bullet as Thranduil came downstairs. He kissed her cheek as he walked by, going to the coffee maker and pouring himself a mug.

“New case?” he asked.

“No, it’s an old case.” she replied.

“If it’s old then why are you looking at it?”

“Pamela begged me to give a lecture in place of Dr. Pakiraj who came down with another mysterious case of stomach issues.”

“And why did she ask you to take his place?”

“It’s a lecture seminar for medical students about complex surgery cases, plus she said doing this lecture will go towards my mandatory hours at the clinic.”

“Sounds just like you.”

She sighed, closing the file folder. “The things I do to avoid people complaining about their hangovers and stubbed toes.”

“How are you feeling this morning?”

“I’m still pregnant.” she reassured, standing up and taking her bowl to the sink. Thranduil came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her, his hands on the small bump on her lower belly.

“Every day it grows a little more.” he said softly, kissing the side of her head. Ayla smiled, placing her hands over his. “And every day I think about how lucky I am to have found you again.”

“I feel the same.” she said, turning around in his arms and smiled up at him, her baby bump pressed up against his stomach. “So we have all weekend, what should we do?”

“Well,” he began, his hands massaging her hips over the soft cotton of the shirt Ayla had borrowed from his side of the closet, the length just long enough to cover her rear. “You’re already half-dressed.”

She giggled, rising onto her toes to plant a kiss on his lips, though Thranduil had to lower his head down to meet her, being so much taller than her. She grinned up at him, feeling his hands moving over her hips, gently pulling the shirt up. Just as things were getting started Ayla’s phone began to ring, cutting into the moment.

“Ignore it,” Thranduil said in a low voice, kissing her lips again. He ran his fingers through her loosely tied hair, holding her attention for himself like the selfish man he always was. When he felt her arms snake around his neck he deepened the kiss, making her moan softly. Picking her up with her legs wrapped tightly around his hips, Thranduil carried her to their bedroom. As much as he wanted to take her in the kitchen he thought of her comfort first; especially since she made him constantly lust for her. Being apart for a few centuries with only the memories of her touch left him wanting deeply and he had much to make up for.

xxxxx

(Two weeks later)

Legolas stopped by the hospital, passing a gawking Patrick as he went straight to Ayla who was going over some paperwork on her clipboard, unaware of him until he set a paper bag down in front of her. Ayla’s eyes lit up as she set her clipboard down and opened it eagerly, grinning broadly as she pulled out the red and white box. Inside was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen; chicken nuggets.

“You’re the best!” Ayla said, biting into a nugget and letting out an appreciative moan.

“Satisfying your food cravings is the least I can do.” Legolas said as he leaned against the half-wall that encompassed the nurse’s station. Patrick had moved closer, still gawking at Legolas.

“Thranduil wouldn’t be caught dead even going to a drive-thru of a fast food chain. Did you know he scolded me for ordering pasta the other day while we were on a date? He didn’t care that I was craving spaghetti; he just said how unhealthy it was for the baby. You should probably prepare yourself.”

“For what?”

“For a funeral. Hope you have a black suit in your closet.”

Legolas laughed as he pulled his phone out from his back pocket.

“Where’s Tauriel?” Ayla asked.

“She is at work. It is a school day, after all.” Legolas said.

“Ah, I keep forgetting she’s a kindergarten teacher.” Ayla said before stuffing another nugget into her mouth.

“She enjoys it. And since I have no plans, I am more than content to just being your errand boy for your junk food fix.”

Ayla snorted as she picked up another nugget. “Since you’re so eager to help, you mind also taking all the baby help books Thranduil has bought and burn them?”

He let out another laugh, “Anything for you, _Naneth._ So when will you reveal the baby’s gender? I know you know already.”

Ayla smiled at him. “If it were up to me I would have told everyone months ago after the blood test.”

“Does father know?”

“Of course not, he wants to wait until _after_ the baby comes out. But he knows he has the option of knowing sooner.”

“Well I’d like to know ahead of time so I can buy the appropriate gifts.”

“Well, aren’t you just going to be the doting big brother.” she teased, finishing off the last nugget and then handing the empty box to Patrick who wordlessly tossed it into the trash bin.

Legolas’ smile broadened, “Well, I missed my chance with Aragorn when he was a child and I have no intention of missing out this time.”

Ayla felt a little tug at her heart at the mention of his name, missing him dearly. “I’m just glad you spent the rest of his life with good memories. Did I ever thank you for keeping him alive during that whole ring ordeal?”

“Not in so many words. Before the final battle, Lord Elrond had shared the message you sent to Aragorn while bringing the re-forged sword: _Don’t bother coming back if you plan on dying.”_ Ayla burst out laughing, remembering the look on Elrond’s face when she told him to pass on the message. Legolas joined in the laughter. “As you know, he just laughed at that, too.”

“At least he came back without dying. That’s something.” Ayla said.

“He spoke very fondly of you, _Naneth._ And we even compared your way of raising us. We had a lot in common and I suppose that was how we bonded, being raised by the same woman we called mother.”

Ayla smiled, “Oh stop, you’re gonna make me cry.”

Legolas smiled, touching Ayla’s belly and unexpectedly felt the baby kick underneath his palm. The prince’s grin broadened as he stared down at his hand and Ayla placed her hand over his, meeting his gaze and smiling.

“Now I really can’t wait.” he said.

Patrick cleared his throat, interrupting the moment between Ayla and Legolas. “Dr. Soryn, this is for you.” he said, slipping another clipboard at Ayla before looking at Legolas with a smile. “Hi, I’m Patrick.”

“Hello.” Legolas said politely before looking at Ayla again. “You’re still coming tonight, right?”

“Yup, I’ll be there.”

Legolas kissed her cheek and left, leaving Ayla to return to her task of going over the reports on the clipboards.

“Uh, hello? Was that your stepson?” Patrick asked.

“Yup.” Ayla replied.

“Is he still not available?”

“That’s right.”

“Is he strictly monogamous?”

Ayla looked up at him sharply. “My family is off limits, Patrick.”

xxxxx

(One Month later)

Being on maternity leave, Ayla had thought she would be bored out of her mind while binge-watching Netflix but instead she was enjoying it. Thranduil delegated the majority of his work load onto Legolas so that he could stay with Ayla, catering to her every need (which were many and Ayla took advantage). Thranduil didn’t complain, happy to oblige and look after his wife who would soon be giving birth to their child. He would massage her swollen feet and ankles and massage her lower back. They would go for walks in their neighborhood if the weather permitted, and indulge in whatever Ayla was craving. Today it was fried pickles with ranch dip, something Thranduil found offensive to his nose and pallet while Ayla just happily ate the fried atrocities by herself. There were few fried food that Thranduil actually would deign to eat, even fewer he actually enjoyed.

Fried pickles was most definitely not on that list.

But he was more than happy to allow his _nin mel_ to enjoy them for the benefit of their child, becoming more lax in Ayla’s diet after she had yelled at him again for hovering. Despite the constant cravings, Thranduil was pleased to see that it was all going to the baby. Ayla did gain some extra weight but the doctor reassured that it was nothing to be concerned about, although Thranduil wouldn’t mind if Ayla had a bit more meat on her bones.

Ayla had gone out with Kwenthrith and Tauriel, the beautiful elves indulging the pregnant woman by taking her to her old neighborhood and buying hotdogs from her favorite vendor.

“Mmm! God I’ve missed these.” Ayla moaned after her first bite.

“I take it your husband does not bring you hotdogs?” Kwenthrith asked, paying for their lunch. Ayla had been surprised that they would eat processed meat and didn’t protest them if they were trying to accommodate her.

“No, he refuses to even go near the stuff.” Ayla said before taking another large bite of her hotdog that had been loaded with chili, hot peppers, and cheese.

“Shame, I’ve quite enjoyed the different cuisines the humans have come up with.” Tauriel said.

Ayla finished her hotdog before the other two were halfway done with theirs and went back to get a second hotdog.

“I’m glad to see you have an appetite.” Kwenthrith said.

“Yeah, I’m hungry all the time.” Ayla said.

Kwenthrith smiled, “It’s good that you are, it means your baby is healthy.”

“That reminds me, about your baby shower…” Tauriel began, “Your friend Pamela had asked for some strange things to bring.”

“Strange how?” Ayla asked.

“Well, she asked that I pick up your cake but the description of it is…disturbing.” Tauriel said.

Ayla snorted, “That’s Pam, she’s probably getting back at me for the cake I got her.”

“So then exactly why does she request penis necklaces?” Tauriel asked.

Ayla shrugged.

xxxxx

Thranduil sat in the living room with Ayla laying against his chest, the television on but neither of them paid it any attention. Ayla had fallen asleep against him, her face turned to the side and her hands propped on her stomach. Thranduil was content just sitting around with his beloved, letting her rest while he caressed her arms gently and kissing the top of her head every few minutes. His hand would then wander down to the now large swell of her belly, ripe and ready to bear fruit any day now.

He took comfort knowing that this time—this time they will finally meet their child. The product of their love. He took comfort when they went to their last appointment with the doctor, checking on the baby’s status and hearing that it was healthy and comfortable. He would be lying if he said he didn’t often dream about that horrible day, holding a grief stricken Ayla in his arms while a servant carried away a blood soaked bundle. He stroked her belly, able to feel the delicate life beneath his palm, feeling spots that were firmer than others where the baby was pressed up against the inner wall of her abdomen.

The baby kicked against his palm and Ayla let out a soft gasp, jerking her out of her nap. Thranduil smiled softly as he placed another kiss on her head. Ayla adjusted her position, groaning softly before resettling herself against him.

“I swear this kid will star in their own karate movie someday with the way they kick.” she grumbled. Thranduil let out a low chuckle, stroking her neck gently with the back of his knuckles.

“Give Legolas a run for his money, I’m sure.” he said with amusement. Ayla let out another little groan as she took his hand and placed it over her stomach, letting him feel the baby kicking again. Smiling, Thranduil lowered his head to kiss her neck. Ayla reached back and touched his head with affection. “Our child will be our greatest treasure.”

“They’re passing the time by using me as a boxing bag.” 

“They’re just eager to come out.”

“I’m starting to feel hungry again.”

“What do you want?”

“Mmm, hot cocoa sounds nice.”

“Sweets and fried food, our child is quite the glutton.”

Ayla chuckled as she struggled to sit up, Thranduil pushing against her back to help her. “It just means they won’t care if the food is cheap or from a five star restaurant.”

“Then they won’t be a picky eater like Legolas was.” Thranduil said, standing up and then taking Ayla’s hands to help her up. The moment Ayla was pulled up onto her feet she felt a pull in her lower abdomen and groin and felt her leggings become drenched.

“My water just broke.” she said, looking up at her husband whose eyes slowly widened. She could see him freezing up in the moment. “Thranduil, it’ll be fine. My travel bag in the coat closet, the keys are by the door, now help me upstairs so I can change my pants.”

“We need to get you to the hospital.” Thranduil finally said.

“It can take hours before I will give birth. Now help me upstairs.”

xxxxx

It was a day to be celebrated for sure as Thranduil held his daughter in his arms, looking down at her pink face with all the love in his heart. She was perfect in every way possible with ten fingers and toes, her ears slightly pointed at the tip, and had fine dark hair on her head. He couldn’t help but think that she was worth the wait now that she was here with them. His precious daughter.

His princess to spoil.

He looked back at the bed where Ayla laid, asleep after laboring for hours to birth their daughter. The strength and determination she showed had been a sight he would never forget, the sheer concentration as she pushed while squeezing his hand had been a sight of beauty. He loved her more than ever at that moment, and had earned her rest after such a labor. Once both mother and child had been cleaned and returned to their private suite, Thranduil couldn’t get enough of his daughter. He had to hold her constantly, unable to put her down for more than a few minutes. It was a strange urge to want to constantly hold her, unable to recall if he ever felt this way after Legolas had been born. He was sure he held Legolas as an infant but back then his mother and the servants all cared for him. 

Thranduil could only surmise that the circumstances now are different because their environment is different. He no longer had a Realm of servants to answer his every beck and call, and Ayla had insisted that the two of them be proactive parents. He had read all of the parenting books that he could get his hands on, went to every lamaze class with Ayla, made sure Ayla’s diet was nutritional for her and the baby (or as nutritional as he could manage whenever her cravings were not playing a part), and massaged her feet and legs every night to prevent them from swelling. Perhaps that was why he was acting this way: he was ready to be a father again and eager to show it.

It had only been a few hours since his daughter was born and already Pamela had been a rather affective guard dog, turning away visitors with an unapologetic authority. All of the visitors had been paparazzi, wanting to get an exclusive photo of his family and Pamela had acted as a barricade, calling security and offering rather lethal threats to send them off. Their friends, however, had been more understanding of their privacy, willing to wait until Thranduil and his family were back home and settled before seeing their new addition. The only visitors that were allowed were Legolas and Pamela (who had taken it upon herself to be Ayla’s attending physician and booted out the other doctor).

Legolas knocked gently on the door before entering the room, seeing his father place a finger to his lips to indicate to be quiet to allow Ayla to continuing resting. With a nod Legolas entered, closing the door gently behind him before going over to his father and looking at his new baby sister. Like his father he looked at his sister with all the love in his heart, finding her absolutely beautiful. He could see that his father was already attached as it took a bit of coaxing to let the man allow Legolas to hold his sister but when he did it was like magic. She was so small in his arms and already more precious than any rare gem the dwarves could mine. Already she was his entire world.

“What is her name?” Legolas asked softly, looking up at Thranduil who hesitated to answer. 

“Luna.” Both elves looked to the bed to see Ayla awake and smiling tiredly at them both.

Legolas gave her a toothy smile. “Luna is a perfect name.”

“I had to fight for it, your father wanted to name her something I couldn’t pronounce.” Ayla said.

“You could pronounce it you just didn’t like it.” Thranduil said with a slight huff.

“Regardless, I’m right and you’re not.” Ayla said with finality.

Legolas shook his head and gently handed Luna back to Thranduil. “Well, I only came to check in and see my new sister. Message me when you’re home.”

“We will.” Thranduil reassured. 

xxxxx

_Stars shining bright above you_   
_Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you"_   
_Birds singing in the sycamore trees_   
_Dream a little dream of me_   
_Say nighty-night and kiss me_   
_Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me_   
_While I'm alone and blue as can be_   
_Dream a little dream of me_

Ayla gently stroked the silky golden hair on Legolas’ head as the young tween slept with his head resting in her lap. The gentle summer breeze blowing by, carrying the sweet scent of pine and warm earth in the air from the surrounding forest of the Realm. Ayla looked down at Legolas, smiling at his sleeping face. In her peripheral vision she could see Thranduil watching from nearby.

_Stars fading but I linger on dear_   
_Still craving your kiss_   
_I'm longing to linger till dawn dear_   
_Just saying this_   
_Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you_   
_Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you_   
_But in your dreams whatever they be_   
_Dream a little dream of me_

In her arms Ayla gently rocked Aragorn, the infant fighting to stay awake as his eyelids drooped. He always was stubborn when it came to nap time and Ayla struggled to figure out how to get him to sleep. So far rocking him back and forth and singing songs her father had sung to her when she was little. Looking down at Aragorn’s face, his chubby cheeks pink from her kisses, and his eyes finally closing. Ayla slowed down her rocking to a stop, hoping that he finally fell asleep. After gently placing him in his cradle Ayla slowly stepped back, praying he will stay asleep. Of course she should have known better because no sooner had she took one step back Aragorn began to whine and kick his feet. With a tired sigh she picked him up and began to rock him back and forth again.

_Stars fading but I linger on dear_   
_Still craving your kiss_   
_I'm longing to linger till dawn dear_   
_Just saying this_   
_Sweet dreams, till sunbeams find you_   
_Gotta keep dreaming leave all worries behind you_   
_But in your dreams whatever they be_   
_You gotta make me a promise, promise to me_   
_You'll dream, dream a little of me_

Thranduil kissed Ayla’s temple as she held their child against her breast. Both proud as they stared down at their newborn. The labor had been short and the birthing process was quickly forgotten the second she laid eyes on her baby.

“She’s so beautiful, just like her mother.” Thranduil said.

Ayla looked up at him with a tender smile. “I love you.” she said softly.

“I love you, too.”

xxxxx

While Ayla slept Thranduil had gone into the nursery when their newborn began to cry, picking her up delicately, supporting her tiny head in his palm. It had been ages since he last held an infant in his arms, but the memory and love was still there. The heartache of losing their last child in Middle Earth had weighed on his mind when he learned that Ayla was pregnant again, but if it were not for Ayla’s certainty that things will be different the fear would have consumed his every waking thought. But now, as he looked down upon the tiny being they created, whatever fear remained had been pushed back into the shadows where they belonged.

A daughter…his princess…his light in the darkness.

He could not be prouder to experience fatherhood again and raise his daughter with the love of his life, with his soul mate. Thranduil had been right to predict that their daughter would be beautiful. A spell had to be cast to hide her pointed ears but when at home, there was no need to hide. He kissed the top of her head as her fussing calmed and her eyelids closed and drifted back off to sleep. The need to continue holding her close to his heart was incredibly strong as he sat down in the rocking chair and continued to cradle her in his arms while gently rocking back and forth.

They had named her Luna, because she had been born at midnight during a full moon. Such a birth meant that her life will be full and prosperous. Their friends had sent gifts to congratulate the birth of their daughter, ranging from traditional to modern-day practical. Legolas of course showed his excitement for a baby sister by buying the biggest teddy bear imaginable. To be blunt, it simply did not fit in the nursery, taking up too much space and thus was left in one of the guest rooms.

Thranduil felt complete; he has his queen in Ayla, he has an heir in Legolas, and now he has a daughter, his princess. Seattle was his new Realm, and his people lived contentedly. A King couldn’t ask for more. Well…he could, but there was no need for more than what he already has.  
After a while he finally got up from the rocking chair and laid Luna back in her bassinet with the blanket still wrapped snug around her tiny body. He gazed down at her for another indulgent minute before leaving quietly, returning to his room to join his wife in bed. It felt like he had just closed his eyes when Luna’s crying came through the baby monitor, waking them both up. He felt Ayla sit up and slide out of bed.

“I can get her, you get more sleep.” Thranduil said, reaching for her.

“No, its fine, she probably needs to be fed.” Ayla yawned, walking out the door to the nursery. Thranduil let his head fall back against the plush pillow, falling back asleep. He barely registered when Ayla returned to bed and didn’t wake up until Luna started crying again in the morning as the sun was coming up. The Elvenking did not recall this part of raising a child, did Legolas cry this much after he was born? Although, then again, Legolas was looked after by the servants so he missed out on disturbed sleep to cater to an infant’s needs.

Only one day had passed since bringing Luna home from the hospital and Thranduil had never been more exhausted in his life. Sitting at the kitchen island counter, drinking down his second cup of coffee, he could barely stay focused on his laptop as he read through his emails. He heard Ayla dragging her feet across the floor as she walked up to the counter beside him and stole his mug of coffee, drinking the rest of it before reaching for the French-press and refilling the mug.

“Mornin’.” she mumbled tiredly. 

“Good morning,” he replied back, a little less tired now that he got some caffeine in his system. Looking over at her he couldn’t resist the thought of how sexy she looked in her grey tank top and cotton shorts with a pink fuzzy bathrobe over her shoulders, her dark hair a tangled mess in a loose bun on the top of her head. He didn’t mind that her stomach was still distended since she just had the baby and liked the fact that her breasts had swelled up to double their normal size. How he suddenly imagined himself kissing and touching her all over, taking her right there on the counter. But he resisted the urge to act on his fantasy…for now at least.

“I forgot what it was like having a newborn.” she said before taking a careful sip of coffee.

It took a moment for it to register in Thranduil’s tired brain. “That’s right; you had raised Aragorn after his mother died.” he said, having forgotten that bit of history.

“Didn’t you get up at all hours of the night with Legolas?”

“No, back then I had servants take care of him.”

“That explains _so_ much.” she said, “Well, now you can make it up and experience the joy of no sleep for at least three years.”

“You make it sound too inviting. Perhaps we should get started on another.” he teased.

“Sorry but this kitchen is temporarily closed.”

He smiled at her and she smiled back. “Perhaps when we establish a routine with Luna.”

“Oh? You got baby fever or something?” Ayla asked, grinning at him as she moved closer. Thranduil put an arm around her waist, pulling her against him, their lips about to touch when their moment was disrupted by Luna’s crying through the baby monitor. The new parents sighed and pulled apart. “This is our new normal.”

xxxxx

Ayla hit record on her phone, capturing the moment when Thranduil changed their daughter’s diaper for the first time. She had a hard time keeping the camera steady from trying not to laugh when Thranduil undid the tags on the diaper and the look of pure shock and disgust on his face. Judging from the smell it obvious that Luna had gone a number two and the poor Elvenking obviously had never changed a diaper. 

“This is horrific.” Thranduil said, nearly gagging as he turned away.

“She’s a baby, it’s what they do.” Ayla said, the camera shaking as she laughed. “You have to change her diaper, you volunteered.”

“It’s impossible.”

“No it’s not. I’ve changed her diaper since day one; you need to do it at least once.”

Thranduil turned back around, his face looking paler than normal as he grabbed more than a handful of wipes and a fresh diaper. He tentatively held up with the wipes to begin cleaning but then was hit by a stream of urine running down his front. He immediately jumped back and Ayla lost it, laughing hard at the sight of the proud King who couldn’t conquer a simple diaper change.

xxxxx

Legolas scrolled through all of his many photos of his baby sister, a smile plastered on his face as he did so. Only a week since Luna was born and already his phone’s memory bank was almost full. He had to purchase another with a larger data storage. It was hard not to take photos of her; she was just too adorable to resist the urge of capturing every minute. Although so far her eyes were closed for most of them, sleeping like a cherub while bundled up in her fluffy pink blanket.

“Your obsession could be seen as unhealthy.” Tauriel said, sitting across from him at their kitchen table and sipping her tea.

Legolas let out a sigh and then finally put his phone down. “I’m just happy. To see them so happy to finally have their baby after all this time. I’m actually quite envious of them.”

“Envious of them for being so happy or that they finally had a baby?” Tauriel asked.

“Perhaps both.” he said, looking up at her. Tauriel raised an eyebrow at him.

“Are you implying that you want to have a child?” Tauriel asked.

He smiled at her, “Someday, yes, but I wish to wait a little longer. At least until Luna is a little older.” 

Tauriel lifted her cup to her lips, smiling into it. “Children are hard work, and they have boundless energy.”

“In a few years from now I’m sure we’ll be more than ready.” Legolas said, unconsciously picking his phone up again and went back to scrolling his photos of Luna again.

Tauriel shook her head in amusement. “You have what Ayla calls baby fever.”

“I’m just excited, is all.”

xxxxx

A month had gone by and it appeared that Ayla had managed to get Luna onto a schedule as she seemed to know exactly what their daughter needed whenever she cried. Thranduil wished he had that sort of intuitive insight when it came to their daughter but he would merely take Ayla’s cue and go from there as they took turns whenever she cried. For a month they barely left the apartment, only time they went out was to take Luna to her wellness check-ups with the pediatrician to track her growth. It was clear that they both needed a break; even if it were for just a few hours, and Thranduil knew who to leave their daughter with for an evening: his son.

Ayla had told Legolas and Tauriel (who tagged along) where to find the bottles of milk and how to warm them up and for how long and to check the temperature before feeding Luna; which was all Ayla informed, telling Legolas that he’ll figure out the rest on his own before she and Thranduil left to go on their date.

“Are you sure they’ll be fine?” Thranduil asked, wondering if it was a good idea to leave Legolas and Tauriel even for a few hours with their newborn.

“That’s why YouTube was invented; they can always watch tutorial videos of how to change a diaper.” Ayla said as they stepped into the elevator to take them down to lobby.

“I suppose nowadays everything is more convenient.” he said.

“Yeah, especially when everything is on our phones.”

“True. I suppose with Tauriel here there isn’t much to be worried about.”

As the elevator reached the lobby floor they stepped out together, their arms linked together. Living downtown had its perks since it was just a few short blocks to over a dozen restaurants and shops.

xxxxx

Legolas had no trouble looking after his baby sister, especially when Tauriel was there to help him. Ever since she was born it was love at first sight, the excitement of finally meeting Luna had been overwhelming. He remembered the disappointment and heartache when he returned from Gondor after the war against Mordor, expecting to see the newest addition to his family only to find out that not only did the baby not make it but Ayla had returned to her world. It had been hard on him but he couldn’t imagine what his father had been going through, helpless to do anything but watch his father just merely existing and not living. When a few centuries later his father said he was going to search for Ayla, he eagerly followed. He had hoped Tauriel would come with them but she had decided to stay with what remained of their people until the last of them were ready to depart from Middle Earth. Legolas understood, even though it pained him to leave her behind at that time. Gimli had come along with him, promising his friend a new adventure even though Gimli was reaching the end of his years and finally died twenty years after arriving to the new land.

Now his father had another chance and it had been nothing but prosperous and Legolas couldn’t be happier for his father and Ayla. After everything they had to endure this happiness was well earned for them, especially now that Luna was here. His beautiful little sister.

So far the evening was going smoothly; Luna was contently sleeping against Tauriel’s chest while Legolas took dozens of photos of her, posting a few onto his facebook and Instagram page. On top of that neither Ayla nor his father had called to check in on them, which he took as a sign that they had no worries leaving their newborn with her big brother. Legolas recalled the last time he held a baby was after Aragorn’s son was born; of course the boy was two years old. The Prince supposed Luna had to be the very first infant he ever held, and he wasn’t afraid of holding her because he knew he would never hurt her.

When Luna woke up from her short nap she just looked around with her wide brown eyes and Legolas couldn’t help but watch her with a smile plastered to his face.

“Your arrival may have been delayed but the wait was worth it, and now our father has a princess to spoil.” Legolas said, letting Luna grasp his index finger in her tiny hand, not pulling his hand away and letting the infant chew on his fingertip between her soft gums. He just smiled as he watched her. “And knowing him, he _will_ spoil you. And I will, too. But don’t tell _Naneth.”_ he said before giving her a quick kiss on the forehead.

“Don’t spoil her too much or I might get jealous.” Tauriel teased. Legolas smiled, leaning up and kissing her gently on the lips.

“I’ll try to be fair.”

xxxxx

Later when Thranduil and Ayla returned from their much needed date, they walked into their home, finding the TV on, playing some movie. Thranduil took their coats to hang in the coat closet by the front door while Ayla walked into the living room. She stopped right behind the couch, smiling down at what she found. Looking over her shoulder she quietly waved her husband over to stand by her. She reached into Thranduil’s pocket, taking his phone and turning on the camera to take a few shots of the precious sight. 

Quietly Thranduil reached down, carefully picking up his daughter from where she slept soundly between Legolas and Tauriel while Ayla pulled up a blanket and covered them before turning off the TV. Ayla placed a kiss to Legolas’ forehead before following her husband upstairs, not before turning out the lights.

The End


	17. Epilogue

(5 years later)

Thranduil sat at the island counter, feeding his infant son in his highchair a small jar of “organic” apple sauce from the Farmer’s Market (much to his insistence even though Ayla tried to argue that store bought was just as good). Aedan would take the tiny spoonful of mashed apples and as soon as his mouth closed nearly half would ooz out from the corners of his mouth and Thranduil would have to scrape them up with the spoon and try to get it all back into the boy’s mouth. Aedan would then laugh and slap his chubby hands on the countertop, thinking it was all a game and Thranduil would smile and wipe the boy’s chin with a cloth.

Aedan was nine months old now, healthy and growing bigger every day. He had a head of fine blonde hair that was slowly darkening and big silvery eyes. His skin was soft and fair and his cheeks fat and rosy. Whenever he smiled he would show off his baby teeth that he enjoyed to test them out on anything, including his father’s fingers.

Luna came down the stairs; her brown hair tied up in a ponytail and was dressed up in her newest party dress with a pink cardigan over it. Thranduil set the spoon into the small jar and turned to pick up his daughter, letting her sit on his lap and planted a kiss to her temple.

_“Is your Naneth ready?”_ he asked her in Sindarin.

_“Yes, Ada.”_ Luna replied. Thranduil only spoke to his children in Sindarin, feeling it was important for them to know the language of their people and Ayla didn’t disagree since they would be speaking English once they started school and that’s all they heard outside of home. Ayla came downstairs a few minutes later, dressed up in a fine evening gown of midnight blue. Ayla looked up at her husband as she approached, smiling at him and planting a kiss to his cheek. 

“You look beautiful.” Thranduil said.

“Well, I try.” Ayla said, moving around her husband to their son, kissing the top of his head.

“Are you ready?” Thranduil asked.

“I am,” Ayla replied, wiping Aedan’s mouth with the burp rag before undoing his bib. Thranduil stood up and grabbed his jacket from the countertop.

_“Luna, go get your jacket along with your brother’s.”_ Thranduil instructed. Luna nodded, going to the living room where her mother had dropped the jackets on the sofa from earlier.

“Tonight will be your first party, Aedan!” Ayla said as she picked up her boy, feeling his weight in her arms. “Oof! You are getting heavier. Luna, get the door.”

Thranduil smiled, knowing how lucky he was to have his family as he followed them out the door.

xxxxx

Having booked the restaurant at the top of the Space Needle for a private party celebrating Mereth Nuin Giliath, Ayla arrived with her family, happily greeting her dear friends who traveled to Seattle from overseas. Thranduil parked the stroller off to the side and picked up Aedan, introducing the newest addition to the family to the rest of the party. Luna had already gone off to play with the other children who had been brought along while the adults mingled. Pamela arrived with her son Henry, since she was Ayla’s best friend it automatically made her part of the family. Plus she had charmed Haldir rather quickly at the last party, and in a span of a year he had moved to Seattle and is now living with Pamela and her son.

The wine and champaign was already being poured freely amongst the guests and everyone freely picking away at the feast that had been prepared. Legolas and Tauriel were the last to arrive to the party, Luna immediately running up to her big brother as he scooped her up into his arms with a big grin on his face. He greeted his father and Ayla, and kissed the top of his baby brother’s head before greeting the rest of the partygoers. Tauriel hugged Ayla in greeting and giving Thranduil a polite nod of her head in his direction.

The party was merry and going well into the night. Kwenthrith and Arlen announced that they were expecting, giving everyone another reason to drink some more as they congratulated the couple. As the hour became late guests began to slowly leave for the night. Ayla hugged her friends, careful not to wake Aedan who was fast asleep in her arms before putting him in his stroller. She gave Legolas a kiss on the cheek before turning away to the elevators, pushing the stroller with a sleeping Aedan followed closely behind by Thranduil carrying their sleeping daughter in his arms.

xxxxx

Ayla and Thranduil tucked their children in for the night. Ayla kissed her children on the forehead and tucking their favorite stuffed toy with them. Standing in the doorway to look back one last time, Ayla smiled fondly at her children and felt Thranduil standing close behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“How did I get so lucky?” she asked quietly.

“It all began when you woke up in Middle Earth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new story will be posted in the New Year of 2020 with all the same characters in an alternate universe. Hope you readers will enjoy as I extend the "Eternally" series


End file.
